1
NIMBY

The Demons of the system did not gather frequently
unless there were intriguing contests to be made or
issues to be settled. This occasion was a bit of both.

"You must have cheated!" the Demoness VCEW)"5 de-
clared. Of course the Demons did not actually communi-
cate in words or have any emphasis, but for the sake of
intelligibility their interactions could be represented as
such in degraded prose. "You have been winning every
contest recently."

"I simply learned how to play to win," the Demon
X(A/N)11' responded mildly. "My victories have been
fair."

"I wonder," the Demon E(A/R)111 remarked. "There is
something suspicious about the way that foolish mortal
boy gave up his game victory at the last moment, so that
you won our wager."

"And the way that crazy lesser demoness decided the
obviously innocent bird was guilty, so that you won our
wager," V(E\N)"8 agreed.

"I merely have compatible lesser creatures in my do-
main, because I allow them to pursue their own mischief
without interference," XCA/N)* protested. He glanced
obliquely at E(A/R)lh. "In contrast to some."

"If I did that, my idiot creatures would destroy my do-
main," ECA/R)* retorted.

"Aren't they doing that anyway?" V(E\N)"8 inquired
snidely.

"Hardly the way your lesser creatures affected your do-

2   PIERS ANTHONY

main," E(A/R)th shot back. "Now it's all cloud and desert,

instead of milk and honey."

"We all have made our little mistakes," the Demon
JUCP/I)'" said soothingly. "Which is why we have failed
to gain significant lasting status. But it does seem that
X(A/N)'1' has been unusually fortunate recently."

"Yes it does," V(E\N)1"' said emphatically.

"Agreed," E(A/R)'11 agreed. There was a murmur of ac-
quiescence from the other Demons present.

"It is merely my good lesser creatures," X(A/N)"' in-
sisted. "I treat them well, and they reward me by behaving
well. My fortune is in the quality of my creatures."

The other Demons exchanged a hundred and fifteen
glances in half a fraction of a moment. "Suppose we put
that to the test?" JUCP/I)'" suggested.

XCA/N)* grew more interested. "Are you challenging

me to a contest?"

"Yes, I believe I am. Suggest terms."
"If I win, I will assume your status as dominant entity

in this system."

"Agreed. And if you lose, you will revert to the status

of least entity in this system, and yield your land to me."

That was a formidable stricture, for it had taken
X(A/N)th three thousand years to work his way up to se-
cond place, and might take longer to do it again. Still, this
might be his only chance to depose JtKP/I)"", because or-
dinarily the Dominant Demon would never put his status

on the line. "Agreed. Conditions?"

JIKP/I)'" smiled. This was akin to a short-tailed comet
fragmenting and plastering itself across his face in a series
of violent collisions. "You must subject yourself directly
to the whims of these inferior creatures you claim have
such good behavior. You must assume the form of a mortal
entity and go among them for the duration of the contest."

Now, this was different! "But normally we don't influ-
ence the inferiors in any way, so that the outcome is com-
pletely random, or at least not affected by the touch of a
Demon." He glanced darkly at V(E\N)"8, whom he sus-

YON ILL WIND

pected of violating that stricture the last time.

—SA(T/U)"1—nodded, and his rings precessed. "This
time you will have license to influence them—to the extent
you are able."

X(A/N)'1' realized that he had been set up. The other
Demons were conspiring to bring him down, because they
were miffed by his string of victories. Still, he did have
good lesser creatures, and perhaps they would bring him
the biggest victory of all. Certainly the challenge was ex-
citing. He had on occasion interacted with them, when they
had intruded on his awareness, but never done so for a
prolonged period. "So I can interact. What's the catch?"

"Your awareness can not be limited," JU(P/I)""' said,
' 'for you are in essence a Demon, regardless of the form
you assume. But for the purpose of the contest, your ex-
pression can be limited. You may not tell any creature of
your realm your true nature, and if any learn of it, you
forfeit immediately."

"Provided no other supernatural entity informs them,"
X(A/N)th said, with another glance at the Demoness.

"Agreed," JL^P/I)'" said. "We shall enforce that stric-
ture. Anything else you may convey to one person, in one
moment. But—" He paused meaningfully. "There will be
a penalty when you do: thereafter you will -lose the power
of verbal communication, for the duration of the contest."

But one moment of full communication should be
enough, XCA/N)* reflected, his albedo increasing. So there
was probably another catch. "What else?"

"You will have your full powers, apart from speech,
limited to yourself and one inferior creature of your choos-
ing, to the extent that creature requests them."

"But if I am not allowed to describe my real nature, in
my moment of communication—''

"Invent something," JUCP/I)'" suggested. "Anything
but the truth. But if you come close enough to the truth
so that the creature, or any other denizen of your domain,
catches on, you lose."

That, too, was reasonable; he could approach the truth,

4   PIERS ANTHONY

but if he came too close, so that the inferior creature re-
alized that he was in fact the Demon X(A/N)"', he would
forfeit. But the contest was sdll incomplete. "What is the
penalty for becoming what that creature chooses?"

"The power of motion," JI-KP/I)^ said. "After that
state ends, when the inferior creature terminates the asso-
ciation and separates from you for more than a moment
and more than a unit of distance, you will not only be
mute but completely immobile. You will lose your powers
of magical action, too, other than awareness. So you had
better achieve your objective before such separation oc-
curs."

"Decision, time, geography," V(E\N)"5 said. "That is

fair, isn't it? Triple termination. No accidents." Fair, to
her, meant she felt assured of his loss, which she desired

more than a victory of her own.

This was getting tough, all right. He could speak only
once, and then could act only as long as he kept company
with the creature. Inferior creatures were notoriously
fickle; at any time, for little or no reason, the one selected
could decide it no longer desired his association, and tell
him so, and depart. By the terms of this contest, he would

not be able to demur.
But it wasn't yet done. This conspiracy of Demons

meant to see that he had virtually no chance at all. He
needed to know the worst of it. "What is the actual item

of decision?"

"You must be the recipient of at least one tear of love

or grief, from a creature who has no notion of its signifi-
cance."

"The creature with whom you associate," V^EW)"5

amended. "No other."

And there it was. He had to evoke the severe sympathy

of an inferior and ignorant creature. "And how long will

I have to evoke this tear?"

' 'As long as your mortal body remains. If you become
mute and immobile without achieving it, your body will
behave in the manner of mortal entities: it will slowly

YON ILL WIND

starve to death. When it dies, the contest will be over, and
you will have lost."

X(A/N)th considered. They expected him to balk, and to
have to pay a forfeit for that. ' 'Agreed. Let me select my
mortal form for the occasion." He was thinking of becom-
ing a beautiful woman, because mortals shed tears very
readily over them. Or perhaps a winsome child: better yet.

"No. That's the last detail: I will select your mortal
form."

"But you could choose something difficult!"

"Exactly. It will be a real contest. Win it, and I will
concede that your creatures do have good behavior."

"You will concede more than that," X(A/Ny1' replied
grimly. "I accept your deal, and the other Demons will
watch to see that every aspect of it is honored."
. The other Demons nodded. This promised to be inter-
esting.

"Then assume your mortal coil," Demon JLKP/I)'" said
grandly. "A dragon ass, with the voice of an aqua duck.
Your role name is Nimby."

And before X(A/N)th could protest, he was in the Region
of Madness, in the form of a creature whose body was that
of a dragon with diagonal stripes of pastel pink and bilious
green, with the head of a Mundane donkey.

"Ouch," he muttered subvocally, but even then it was
the voice of an aqua duck, a sound like a cross between a
goblin holding his nose and the burble of noxious gas per-
colating through sewer water.

There was a stir on the surface of the cesspool that just
happened to be near. An aqua duck poked its head out of
the pool, evidently thinking to discover another of its kind.
Finding no such thing, it ducked below again, for such
ducks lived underwater, and had to hold their breaths to
forage for bugs on the surface.

And his name was now Nimby, which was an apt de-
scription, a digest of Not In My Back Yard: exactly where
such a creature would be welcome. Nowhere.

He was in trouble. How would he convince anyone even

6   PIERS ANTHONY

to approach him, let alone shed a tear for him?

Well, he could look. He extended his awareness, cov-
ering all of the Land of Xanth. He knew what every crea-
ture was doing, and where every plant was. Xanth was
teeming with activity. Somewhere there should be some-
one who wouldn't be afraid of a dragon ass, who would
listen to what he had to say, and who would shed a tear
for him. Maybe not immediately, but in time, after getting
to know him. Because despite his ludicrous limitations, he
retained considerable power to please. If the one he ap-
proached had the wit to ask for it. If that one would take

him seriously.

But instead of finding a suitable person, he found an-
other problem. There had been a magic flux, the moment
he changed form, resulting in a temporary weakness of the
Interface. The spell required to fix him in this situation had
done it, for even the most trifling Demon magic was
stronger than that of all the lesser creatures combined. For
the next few hours, it would be possible for things to pass
through, entering Xanth without being twisted to some
other time. That could mean significant mischief. Ordinar-
ily he would automatically shore up the Interface to pre-
vent such a nuisance, but as Nimby he couldn't. It was his
policy to ignore the activities of his associated region, but
the Interface the local creatures had established was useful,
and helped keep things quiet, so he quietly supported it.
He just had to hope that nothing really obnoxious passed
from Mundania into Xanth, before the Interface healed it-
self.

It would be nice if the person he approached was ex-
tremely cooperative, and shed a tear for him immediately,
giving him the victory and freeing him. But since he
couldn't even say that he needed a tear, that being too
close to the truth, that seemed unlikely. However, if the
person asked him for information, he could provide it, and
if the person asked him to do something about the rift in
the Interface, then he could. Provided he did it in such a

way as to conceal his real nature. So there was a chance

YON ILL WIND   7

to fix the problem, during the course of the contest. If he
found the right person.

He concentrated on that, sifting through all the creatures
of the land. The great majority were plainly unsuitable.
Most were hopelessly locked into their situations, and
wouldn't have anything to do with a weird monster. In
fact, they would either flee it or attack it, depending on
the state of their courage. He needed someone reasonably
open-minded. That cut the prospects down to few.

He headed for the nearest. This was a pretty young hu-
man woman named Miss Fortune. She was .smart, decent,
amiable, lovely, and caring, and did not judge others too
much by appearances. She would make some young man
a fine wife, but for one thing. Her talent was bad luck, and
it always interfered when a really good prospect ap-
proached her. Thus she was perhaps ideal for Nimby, who
could, if she asked him, reverse her luck. He would catch
her alone, present himself, and use his one moment of
speech to acquaint her with the usefulness of Nimby.
Thereafter he would be silent, per the stricture of the con-
test, but it should be enough. She would get to know him,
realize that he was not merely a monster, ask him to re-
verse her luck, and when he did so, she should really ap-
preciate him. Of course, that would not make her cry him
a tear, but perhaps that would come later, if she came to
care for him enough. She often did cry for her pets, and
for family members when they suffered mischief—which
was rather often, because of her talent. So this looked rea-
sonably good.

Nimby trotted along toward the rendezvous. His dragon
body was actually quite strong, and could move well. His
hide was tough enough to ignore nettles and branches. His
eyes were good enough to spy out suitable paths. His nose
was good enough to sniff out all manner of creatures great
and small. In fact. Nimby felt his first pang of hunger. He
was mortal now, so had to eat. Hunger was a new expe-
rience. So he sniffed out a fruiting pie plant and snapped
up a fresh cherry pie. He gulped it down and slurped his

8   PIERS ANTHONY

tongue around his donkey lips. Eating was fun!

He extended his awareness again. Fortune was starting
out to gather a sprig of thyme, because her mother was
getting rushed and needed a bit more. "There's no thyme
like the present," she said. "Go fetch it now." So Fortune,
sweet as she was, set out instantly to fetch it.

Nimby explored the immediate region with his aware-
ness. There were, it turned out, several paths to the thyme
plant, because many families made occasional use of it. In
fact, they found thyme to be quite precious. It would not
be long before Fortune arrived there.

He considered what he would say to her when they met.
Because he would appear to her as a frightening monster,
he had better speak to her first, reassuring her. Then, when
she was prepared, he would show her his dragon ass form.
Even so, his words would have to be effective, because he
would have only a moment of speech. Moments varied in
length; some were long, some short. In this case it would
be the time until she made a verbal response of some kind
to his speech. So he would have to forestall her cry or
exclamation, lest his moment end before he conveyed to
her his potential usefulness to her. Such as being able to
reverse her talent for a time. He could tell her that he had
reverse wood, and knew how to use it to help her. No, she
would just ask for the wood. So he would instead tell her
that his talent could make her what she wanted to be, as
long as they were together. So she would need to keep his
company for a while. Because not only would he be silent
after his moment of speech, he would be immobile once
they formally separated. Thus his single opening
monologue would be of overwhelming importance, and he
had to do it just right. He could in effect win or lose his

contest in that moment.

He reached the thyme plant. It was a small one, so its
effects were limited. Someone had drawn a circle in the
dirt around it, showing the safe limit of approach. Folk
who wanted a leaf of thyme had to use a wooden hook to
get it, because the inanimate was not as greatly affected.

YON ILL WIND   9

That was what Fortune was coming here to do. Then she
would maneuver the leaf into a magic pouch that stifled
its ambiance, and take the pouch home to her mother. Her
mother, of course, would know how to handle it safely;

mothers were always in need of more thyme.

Nimby ducked down behind a pile of rocks near the
plant. This form was good at ducking, because of the aqua
duck component. He wouldn't be able to see the girl very
well from here, but neither would she be able to see him,
which was what counted. Of course, he could use his
awareness to see her without eyes, but it was easier just
to listen for her approach while he rehearsed his moment
of speech. He wanted the fewest feasible diversions for
this practice.

How could he get her to listen without speaking? Maybe
if he made a straight quacking noise, she would think he
was a duck, and would pause, unworried. All he needed
was to get the first few words in, warning her just to listen,
and then he could run off the whole spiel. Fortune, with
her constant bad luck, had surely learned to react cau-
tiously, so well might listen in silence, for a time, anyway.

His donkey ears twitched. She was here! She had ap-
proached with her soft step while he pondered. She was
standing at the edge of the thyme plant's limit; his aware-
ness saw her human feminine form. He had almost missed
her. He had not an instant to waste.

"Quack! Quack!" he said in his ducky voice. "Please
listen to me without speaking, for I have information of
interest to you. I know of your problem with your talent,
and I can help you reverse it, for my own talent is to make
a person whatever she wants to be, as long as she is in my
company." So far so good; she had not made a sound. But
he had to get in the rest before his moment ended. "I am
a friend, but I am not human. I have an ugly form, but I
have no wish at all to harm you. I need the company of a
person like you, and I will do my best to make my com-
pany worthwhile. To justify your trust. But after this, I
will not be able to speak again; I will be completely mute.

10   PIERS ANTHONY

So you will have to tell me what you desire. Stay with me,
and you can be what you wish to be, as long as we are
together. I wish only to win your friendship. Please do not
be dismayed by my appearance, which is awful. I am com-
pletely harmless to you, for I will suffer without your com-
pany." Had he covered enough? He couldn't tell her more
about himself; he had come as close to the truth as he
dared. But maybe he could offer an explanation for his
form, so she wouldn't scream and run away when she saw
him. "I am an enchanted creature, not entirely what I
seem. My fate depends on you. Now, if you care to look
at me, look at the pile of rocks to your right. I will lift my
head and nod, and thereafter be silent. But you can talk to
me, and I will understand, and do what I can for you.
Please trust me. My name is Nimby."

He had said enough. Now it was make-or-break time.
Slowly he raised his head and peered over the rocks. There
she was, and—

It was the wrong girl.

"Oh—a funny donkey!" the girl exclaimed.

And now Nimby was mute, per the contest rule. He had
had a good long moment, longer than expected, and had
spoken well. But how had he come to this mistaken con-
nection? He extended his awareness out and back, tracing
the girl's travel here, and in a moment he had it: Miss
Fortune's bad luck had struck again. There was a crossing
of two paths, just beyond a wide wallflower, and she had
collided with another girl. The two had had their breaths
knocked out, and had sat down on opposite sides, gasping.
Then they had gotten up, brushed themselves off, made
quick curt apologies to each other though each was sure
the other had been at fault, and gone on their ways—down
the wrong paths. Fortune had gone on the other girl's er-
rand, which was to fetch a nice bow from a bow-vine so
her mother wouldn't give her a punish-mint. And the other
girl had gone on Fortune's errand, and had been just re-
alizing her error when Nimby had spoken to her.

She was Chlorine, whose talent was poisoning water.

YON ILL WIND   11

She was plain, stupid, and mean-spirited, in complete con-
trast to Fortune. The collision bad been her fault, because
she had been rushing along without looking, too fast for
path conditions. Thus she had given Fortune the colossal
ill luck to lose her encounter with Nimby, who could have
helped her so much, and had given Nimby the worse luck
to have wasted his opening monologue on her. What was
he going to do with this wretch of a wench? Because she
was the one he was stuck with.

Chlorine approached him. "And you can't talk any-
more?" She inquired. "Not even to bray?" She giggled
at her own clumsy humor.

She was asking for it. Nimby stood up, showing his
dragon body.

"Oh—you're a weird dragon," she said. "Ugliest crea-
ture I've ever seen! Why should I ever want to keep com-
pany with you?"

Why, indeed. Fortune would have had some sympathy,
for she was a decent girl. But Chlorine had a harsh per-
sonality, such as there was of it. And now, casting his
awareness back across her life, he discovered something
even worse: she had once had some sensitivity, but it had
been beaten out of her by her abusive family. She had long
since cried herself out, and now had only one tear left, and
she did not know where that one was. Even if so moved,
she couldn't cry a tear for him. And she wouldn't be
moved, because she had become cynical and heedless of
the feelings of others. Chlorine was simply no prize.

Nimby stared defeat in the snoot. He could hardly have
invoked a worse companion. All because he had not been
paying attention, while a girl known for her ill luck had
suffered more of it. He had come up with the perfect
speech—for an undeserving girl. He had thrown away his
chance for victory. He hung his head in remorse.

"Still," Chlorine said, "if what you said is true, this
could be my lucky day. I'm going to give you a chance.
But I warn you, if you try to eat me, I'll poison your water,
and you'll have one awful bladder infection." Actually,

12   PIERS ANTHONY

her language was somewhat more cynically descriptive,
the key phrase being "pied pee," but Nimby wasn't quite

current with inferior vernacular.

So she wasn't afraid for her safety. She could indeed
poison any water with a touch, which meant she could kill
a creature if she had to. She couldn't do it to Nimby, be-
cause he was a Demon, but of course, he couldn't afford
to let her realize that. And she was what he was stuck with,
and the contest had not yet been resolved; maybe he still
had an outside chance to win. So he nodded, showing that
he understood her warning.

"Make me beautiful," she said.
That was easy. He focused on her, and transformed her
various pans. He made her straggly greenish yellow hair
.into luxuriant green-tinted golden tresses that curled just
enough to be interesting. He made her yellowish complex-
ion into the fairest skin seen in Xanth. He shifted the sub-
stance of her body so that her egg-timer torso became an
hourglass figure. He formed her thick clodhoppered feet
into dainty digits in glassy slippers. And he adjusted her
shapeless dress into an elegant robe that clung to her sud-
denly firm curves like an artistic lover. She was now a

stunning creature of her kind.

She looked down at herself, appreciating the change.
"Oooo! Is this real? I mean, not illusion? It feels real."
She pinched her delightful derriere just hard enough to
verify its mind-freaking reality.

Nimby nodded, agreeing that it was real. As long as

their association continued.

"I need a mirror," she said. "I want to see my face."
Nimby made one of his scales mirror-shiny and turned

it so she could look. She peered at herself, thrilled.
Then she reconsidered. "I'm not just dull-looking, I'm

dull-thinking. I've been told that often enough. Can you

make me smart, too?"

That was phrased as a question, but it was actually a
request, just as the mirror had been. Nimby concentrated

YON ILL WIND   13

on the spongy interior of her head, increasing the effi-
ciency of her mind.

She smiled. "I'm getting smarter! I can feel it! I'm be-
ginning to understand things I never did before. My per-
spective is broadening immeasurably." She paused. "And
so is my vocabulary. I never talked like that before."

Nimby nodded. He had improved not only the height of
her intelligence, but also its breadth. Now she could over-
whelm problems by force of intellect, and have the judg-
ment to know when to apply it. Now she really would use
the term "bladder infection."

She cocked her head, looking at him. "You know,
you're quite a creature, if I'm not dreaming this. Your
talent is quite strong. But now I have the wit to look a gift
dragon in the tooth. Why are you doing this for me? You
said you need my company, but I'm sure my company is
not unique. Was it chance or design that brought you to
me?"

Nimby couldn't answer that, so just gazed at her.

She was quick to understand, because of her new intel-
lect. "Let me rephrase that: was it chance?"

He nodded yes. He had been looking for Miss Fortune,
and ill chance had brought him Chlorine instead.

"Chance that you found me," she said slowly, feeling
her way through the powerful mind she now possessed,
becoming aware of the several informational options and
their bypaths. "But you must have had a design. Did you
need me specifically?"

He shook no.

"Is your ultimate intention toward me beneficial?"

He nodded yes. He had to do her enough good to make
her care enough to shed a tear for him.

But she was too canny, now, to accept that uncritically.
"Beneficial for me as well as you?"

She had caught a significant qualification. He really
didn't care about her long-term welfare, only about his
victory in the contest. But since he needed her emotion,
so that she would cry'for him, he intended to treat her

14   PIERS ANTHONY

well. He wanted her to come to like him, to care about his
welfare. By her definition, as he understood it, his intention
was ultimately beneficial, if not totally happy. So he nod-
ded yes.

"So you just need a person—and not to eat or otherwise

harm."

He nodded yes.
"Of course, I can't be sure I can trust you," she said

sensibly, for common sense was now one of her strengths.
"But with the powers you have demonstrated, I'm sure
you could have rendered me unconscious and consumed
me, had that been your desire. So the evidence substanti-
ates your claim. You need company."

He made a small nod.
"But there is more," she said sagely. "Yet I could

surely guess for days and never happen to discover it. I've
never been good at the game of nineteen questions, or even
five questions." She paused again, startled. "But I could
be good at it now. However, I see no need. As long as I
keep your company, I can be as I am now—and when I
separate from you, I will revert to the way I normally am."

He nodded again.
"So let's see what else I want to be," she said, getting

practical. "Beauty is only skin-deep. I want to be healthy,

too."
He focused on her, making her supremely healthy. He

had already accomplished some of this when he made her
beautiful and smart, and now her chemistry was good as
well as her bones and flesh. She would live a long time,
and never suffer illness, and would heal quickly if injured.

While she remained with him.

"Yes, I can feel that health coursing through me," she

said. "I feel like running and jumping." She did so, and

her body responded perfectly.

She returned to him. "What is the range of your am-
biance with respect to these benefits?" she inquired. "Ten

of my paces? A hundred? A thousand?"

He nodded yes at the third suggestion. She had to be

YON ILL WIND   15

associated with him, and while distance wasn't the key, it
would do as an approximation.

But she did not think to ask a related question: could
she go beyond that ambiance, formally terminating the re-
lationship, then change her mind and return, without losing
the benefits? She assumed that she could—his awareness
told him that—and that was potential disaster for them
both. But he couldn't tell her; she had to ask.

Another notion caught her fancy. ' 'I am now aware that
though my mind and body have become excellent, my per-
sonality has not. I am a cynical mean-spirited vixen; that's
one reason people don't like me. Can you make me nice?"
She hesitated, caught by an errant thought. "But not too
nice, because I wouldn't want to be washy-wishy."

That was actually another request. Nimby focused, and
adjusted her personality to make her nice. Naturally he did
a good job, providing her with qualities of integrity, com-
passion, sympathy, empathy, and thoughtfulness. She
would be about as nice a person as any could be. But he
added a reasonable dollop of realism, so that she would
not be, as she put it, washy-wishy.

"Oh, my," she breathed. "I appreciate what a female
canine I have been, and for such inadequate reason. I have
some amends to make. And I shall make them, in due
course." She looked at Nimby again. "What about my
talent? Can you give me a better one?"

This was dangerous. She could ask for the talent of om-
niscience, and if she got that, she would soon know all
about him—and that would lose him the contest. Her in-
telligence was already dangerous enough. So he shook his
head no.

"Ah, well," she said, being nice about it, but realistic.
"You have already done so much for me that I would be
unduly greedy to wish for more. Still, now that you have
done all this for me, I'd like to do something similar for
you. Can you change yourself as you have changed me?"

Nimby hadn't thought of that. Of course, he could—but

16   PIERS ANTHONY
should he? He concluded that there should be no harm in

it. So he nodded yes.

"Then make yourself into my equivalent, in form, mind,

health, and character," she said. "By that I mean a

princely human man."

So Nimby became a handsome, smart, healthy, nice, but

realistic princely human man. Thus efficiently had Chlo-
rine abated his ugliness, as well as her own.

"Oh, yes," she breathed. "You are the kind of man
I've always dreamed of, but who I knew would never even
look at me." She glanced appraisingly at him. "Look at

me."

She had the notion that he had to obey her. That was

not the case, but since it hardly mattered, he was not con-
cerned. He looked at her.

"Embrace me," she said. "Kiss me."

So he held her and kissed her. She was now mostly as
he had Grafted her, and his own form was hardly natural
to him, but he found the experience interesting and mildly
pleasurable. This was perhaps because he had Grafted a
complete human man form, with its inherent appreciation
of any woman who looked and acted the way this one did.
Her exquisitely Grafted human female body elicited certain
responses in his supremely healthy human male body. He
realized that for the first time in his long existence he was

feeling a tinge of human desire.

She ended the kiss, and sighed. "Too bad you're really
a donkey-headed dragon," she said. "If you were a real

man, I'd marry you."

Such illusion! 'But it was just as well that she thought

of him as the monster, and not as the Demon X(A/N)'11.

"And you're still mute?"
He nodded, appreciating a benefit of this condition: he

couldn't give his identity away.

"Ah, well. I'll just have to do the talking for both of
us." She paused, considering. "Obviously I can't go home
in this state," she said realistically. "My family would
never recognize me, and would be jealous if they did. So

YON ILL WIND   17

I think I'll just disappear for a few days. They may not
even miss me."

She kissed him again, rubbing close against him, so that
his body began to rev up and heat in an alarming though
not unpleasant manner, then flirtatiously disengaged. "So
let's take a long walk to unfamiliar places, in our present
forms, and when I get bored with that I'll consider what
next to do. Because if this is a temporary state, I want to
make the most of it." She eyed him appraisingly. "I sus-
pect you haven't had much experience in human ro-
mance."

Nimby nodded. In fact, he had no idea what she was
talking about, and though his awareness tried to grasp her
larger thoughts, there was nothing there to which he could
relate. What was romance? Did it have anything to do with
the revving of his body when she kissed him?

Chlorine laughed. "Never fear. Nimby. I'll teach you. I
had no use for it before, but now that I'm beautiful and
nice, I appreciate its value. But it must not be rushed. So
let's set out on our adventure." She took his hand and led
him down the path, away from the thyme plant.

Then she thought of something else. "You said you
could reverse my talent! How about that?"

That much he could agree to. In the course of a brief
yes-no dialogue they established that she could not just
poison water, but purify it. Actually she could have used
her talent this way all along, had she realized it, because
her poisoning was temporary, and abolished any bad living
things in the water.

Nimby was feeling more positive. Chlorine had been a
mistake, but had become considerably more interesting.
Perhaps it would be possible to find her lost tear. He knew
where it was, of course, but couldn't tell her unless she
asked the right series of yes-no questions. But she was
doing exactly what he wanted: building a relationship.

Meanwhile his wider awareness was informing him that
the mischief he feared from the interruption of the Inter-
face was coming to pass: a significant storm was about to

18   PIERS ANTHONY '

forge from Mundania into Xanth. Though he could not see
the future, he knew from long-past experience what that
could mean. If that storm progressed until it swept up sig-
nificant amounts of magic dust, there would be trouble like
none seen in millennia. And he couldn't prevent it.

In fact, he now understood how thoroughly the other
Demons had fooled him. They had known that the Inter-
face would waver when he changed form and entered
Xanth as a character, and that a storm was moving toward
it. They had timed it precisely, distracting him so that he
would be severely limited at the worst time. And he, intent
on his chance to gain significant status, had carelessly let

himself be snared,

2
HAPPY BOTTOM

Karen stared avidly out the window of the motor
home, catching glimpses of the roiling surface of
the sea. "Is Happy Bottom here yet?" she asked.
She was seven, and interested in everything but home and

school.

"That's Gladys, twerp," David said. He was her big

twelve-year-old half brother, and he figured he knew
everything she didn't. "Hurricane Gladys."

But this rebuke brought her other half brother Sean into
the fray, as was often the case. He was seventeen, so
ranked David by the same amount David ranked Karen.
"Hurricane Happy Bottom," he said, chuckling. "I like
it. But no, she's not here yet; these are only her outskirts.

Enjoy them."

Karen giggled, enjoying the halfway naughty reference.

YON ILL WIND   19

She saw Mom and Dad, up in the front of the vehicle,
exchange one of tfaeir Significant Looks. That was proba-
bly because of the business about the bottom and the skirts.
Adults knew what was fun, and avoided it.

"Tropical Storm Gladys," Mom said. "She's not yet a
hurricane. Otherwise we couldn't risk this drive across her
path."

Now the kids exchanged a significant glance. Point
made about adults and fun.

"TS HB," Sean remarked innocently. Then, after a
pause just long enough to make someone wonder just what
naughty notions the letters stood for, he clarified it: "Trop-
ical Storm Happy Bottom."

"TS," David agreed with a smirk. Karen kept her face
straight, because she wasn't supposed to know what TS
really stood for, though of course, she did knpw. Tough
Stuff. Just as she knew that PO really stood for Put Out.
But what about HB, in the naughty lexicon? Maybe Hard
Bone. She was sure that would set the boys to sniggering,
though she wasn't absolutely sure why.

Theirs was a modem blended family. Mom and Dad had
each been married before, and it hadn't worked out. Karen
knew why, of course: they had been made for each other,
so their first marriages had been mistakes. Likewise their
first children, though it wasn't expedient to say that, except
in the heat of righteous anger when one of them teased her
too hard. Sean was Dad's son, and David was Mom's son,
which led to certain deviously competitive crosscurrents
between them. In this respect Karen ranked them both,
because she was both parents' child, and a daughter to
boot. So. they were all half siblings, but she was the only
one related by blood to everyone else. She liked it that
way. She really belonged.

But there was only so much excitement to be had from
watching water, even if it was stirring nicely. So Karen
went back to check on the pets. They were in crates, to
keep them out of mischief while the vehicle was in motion,
and not happy about it.

20   PIERS ANTHONY

"Hi, Woofer," she said, reaching in to pat the big mon-
grel dog. Woofer was Sean's pet, but got along with every-
one in the family, especially anyone who had food on his
person. His fur was almost black, matching Sean's hair,
and through him. Dad's. "Hi, Midrange." She stroked the
nondescript tomcat. Midrange was David's pet, but could
be friendly with anyone who sat in one place more than a
moment. His fur was mangy light, matching David's dirty
blond hair, which in turn copied Mom's full blond tresses.
"Hi, Tweeter." The parakeet was Karen's own pet, and
was friendly only with her, though he tolerated the others.
His feathers were tinged with brown, which, of course, was
to match her own red curls. That was what came of trying
to emulate both Dad and Mom: in-between hair.

The pets were all glad to see her, because she usually
paid them more attention than anyone else did. The truth
was that they were all garden-variety creatures, rescued
from pound or flea market according-to the whims of the
various family members; nobody else had wanted any of
them. But Karen thought they were all great folk, and they
evidently agreed with her.

The vehicle shuddered. "Damn!" Dad said. from way
up front in the driver's seat. "Motor's skipping."

"But we can't stop here," Mom protested. "We can't
pause at all, or the storm..." She trailed off, with most
of what she had to say lost in the ellipsis, as she tended
to do when there was something she didn't want the chil-
dren to overhear.

That meant, of course, that Karen definitely wanted to
hear it. "Sorry, gotta go now," she said to the animals,
and hotfooted it back to her place at the table.

Now she could hear the skipping motor herself. It
sounded like one of David's model airplane engines when
it was feeling balky. The motor home was slowing.

"Passengers will buckle their seat belts," Sean an-
nounced, using his airline-captain voice. "We are encoun-
tering turbulence. There is no cause for alarm. Repeat: no
cause for alarm." He spoke the last words with special

YON ILL WIND   21

emphasis, as if the captain were trying to conceal the strain
he was under.

Just then a terrific gust of wind buffeted the RV, giving
it a scary push and shake. David and Karen laughed at the
coincidence; it really did seem as if they were in an air-
plane landing in a storm.

"Must be someplace to pull off the road," Dad said.
"Don't want to stall out on a bridge. Where are we?"

Mom looked at the map. "We're crossing Big Pine Key.
You don't think the motor will... ?"

"Not worth risking," Dad said. "If this one's big, we're
better off here, at least until I can get into the engine."

"Emergency landing," Sean announced in an especially
worried pilot tone. ' 'Passengers will remain seated. Please
review the crash procedures and verify your nearest escape
hatch." And sure enough, there was another buffet of wind
to add realism. ' 'Repeat: there is cause—I mean, no cause
for alarm." As if the captain had repeated without making
the statement the first time, really losing it.

Karen giggled, but behind the fun she was beginning to
get nervous. They were on their way home from a week-
end visit to friends in Key West, and the approach of TS
Gladys had hastened their departure. They had a lot of
long, thin, exposed causeway and bridge to cover before
they got home to Miami, and the sea was looking increas-
ingly formidable. Suppose one of those gusts blew them
into the water?

The skipping got worse. "Can't nurse it along much
farther," Dad said grimly. "That an intersection ahead?"

"Yes, the other road runs the length of Big Pine," Mom
said, focusing on the map. "Maybe there's shelter there."

The RV swung through the intersection, turning north.
The wind pushed at it, trying to make it slew off the road,
but Dad managed to keep it on. Then a blast of ram came
down, making the world outside opaque. Karen couldn't
see much of anything through the side window, and
doubted that Dad was much better off with the windshield.
This was getting bad. She had been enjoying this drive,

22   PIERS ANTHONY

and had been intrigued by the notion of a big storm, but
that delight was turning sour. This was definitely getting
scary, and it wasn't even a hurricane yet. She was begin-
ning to think that such tempests weren't as much fun as
advertised.

"Can't see anywhere to stop," Dad muttered. "What's
that—another turn?"

"There's an intersection with 940," Mom said, her
voice wearing that carefully controlled tone that made
Karen especially nervous. Even the two boys weren't jok-
ing now. It was entirely too easy to visualize the RV as
an airplane descending through bad weather, and Karen
wished she could get that image out of her mind.

"Intersection? Can't make it out," Dad said. "But
there's got to be a big building or something we can use
as a windbreak. I don't dare stop until I have a good place,
because the motor may not start again."

The RV limped on, surviving the buffeting. Then Mom
made a stifled exclamation—the worst kind. She was
scared now, and she didn't scare easy. "Jim—"

"How did we get back on a bridge?" Dad demanded,
seeing it.

"There're two roads," Mom said. "I thought we were
on the left one, but it must be the right one. It leads to No
Name Key."

"Well, whatever its name or lack thereof, here we
come," Dad said.

Karen was relieved to see land resume outside the win-
dow; it had been a brief bridge. She peered ahead, out the
windshield, and saw a sign saying ROCKWELLS. Then one
saying NO NAME. They were indeed on No Name Key.

And still no place to find shelter. Finally the motor
gasped its last, and the vehicle came to a stop. They would
stay here for a white, ready or not. Here on the nameless
key. Mom wouldn't even let Dad get out to check the
motor, because now things were flying through the air, the
wind making missiles of whatever was handy. All they
could do was wait it out.

YON ILL WIND   23

"Safe belly-flop landing," Sean announced. "In remote
country. Do not panic; we are certain to be rescued before
the headhunters locate us." But the humor didn't get off
the ground.

. So they made sandwiches and sang songs, pretending it
was a picnic, while the wind howled and the night closed
around them like some hungry monster. The RV was
shaken so constantly that they came to tune out the dis-
traction.

There was a lull. Quickly they attended to the necessary
things: Dad went to the motor, and the kids took their pets
out on leashes to do their natural business. Actually
Tweeter didn't need any of that, but Karen took him out
of the cage and cuddled him in her two hands, reassuring
him. He rubbed his beak against her nose, his way of kiss-
ing her. He wouldn't do that with anyone else, and that
was the only trick she had been able to teach him, but it
was enough. The truth was that Tweeter was comforting
her as much as she was comforting him.

The winds picked up again, and there was a power about
them that indicated that what was coming would be worse
than what had been. Everyone bundled back into the RV.
Dad hadn't been able to fix the motor—big surprise!—but
had found rocks to block the wheels, making it a bit more
stable. Mom turned on the radio, briefly, just long enough
-to get the weather report.

"Expected to achieve minimal hurricane status within
the next twenty-four hours," Karen heard it say, and she
had to stifle a hysterical laugh. If this was subminimal, she
didn'f want to meet a maximum one! "Twenty-four point
five north latitude, eighty-one point three west longitude,
proceeding west northwest at ten miles per hour."

Mom traced the lines on the map, and stifled another
shriek. "That's here!" she said. "It's coming right here."

"Well, at least it will be calm in the eye," Dad said,
trying for light reassurance but not achieving it.

There was nothing to do but settle down to wait it out.
They didn't think it was safe to use the beds, so they just

24   PIERS ANTHONY

buckled themselves into their various seats and slept as
well as they could in the circumstances. There seemed to
be no point in confining the pets again, so they were al-
lowed to be where they wished. Woofer settled down at
Sean's feet, and Midrange chose David's lap. Tweeter, un-
easy about Midrange being loose, decided to fly back into
the safety of his cage. Midrange had never actually made
a pass at the bird, but Karen understood his concern.

The weather report was right, because in due course the
winds died out and there was complete calm. But they
knew better than to leave the vehicle, because the winds
could return at any time. Karen listened to the silence for
a while, then lapsed back into sleep.

Karen woke to the winds of dawn. There was no sun in
the sky, just brightening turbulence. She had a mental pic-
ture of puffy clouds circling the RV, firing arrows into it,
but since the arrows were made of vapor, they didn't have
much effect. However, the winds were diminishing, so the
worst had indeed passed. The RV had not been tipped over
or blown into the sea. Now she could resume enjoying the
experience as an adventure.

The others stirred in their seats as the light penetrated.
They took turns using the bathroom facilities. Then Mom
got to work on breakfast, while Dad went out to try fixing
the motor again.

"Yo!" he called, surprised.

Karen, free at the moment, zoomed out to join him,
carrying Tweeter perched on one lifted finger. And stopped
just outside the door, amazed.

The outdoors had changed. They were now near the
shore of a huge island. Not far from the RV was a tree
that seemed to be made of metal, and whose fruits seemed
to be horseshoes. And standing not far from the tree was
the weirdest horse she had ever seen. It was male, with
regular hindquarters. But its front rose up into the torso,
arms, and head of a man. It had an old-fashioned bow
slung across its back, and a quiver of arrows.

YON ILL WIND   25

"What is that?" she asked, too awed to be alarmed.

"That is a centaur," Dad said, his voice unnaturally
level.

"A what?"

"A mythical crossbreed between a man and a horse. It
must be a statue, remarkably lifelike."

The figure moved. "Ho, intruders," it said. "What are
you doing on Centaur Isle?"

Karen looked at her bird. "Somehow I don't think we're
in Florida anymore. Tweeter," she said.

Dad seemed too astonished to respond, so Karen did.
"We're the Baldwin family," she said. "We must've got-
ten blown here by Hurricane Happy Bottom. Tropical

Storm, I mean. But where's this? I mean, which key is
Centaur Isle?"

"Key?" the centaur asked in turn. "This is a shoe tree,
not a key-lime tree." He reached out and touched one of
the dangling horseshoes.

The other members of the family emerged, hearing the
dialogue. "Gee—a horseman," David said. "I thought
they were fantasy."

"They are," Dad said. "We must have stumbled into a
freak show."

"Perhaps I misunderstand," the centaur said. "Are you
referring to me as a freak?'' Suddenly his bow was in his
hand, and an arrow was nocked and pointing right at Dad.

Karen acted before she thought, as she often did. ' 'Don't
do that!" she cried to the centaur, running out between
them. "Dad doesn't believe in fantasy."

The centaur was taken aback. "He doesn't? What about
magic, then?"

"That neither," she said.

"What kind of a man is he?" the centaur asked, be-
mused.

"Just a regular garden-variety family man," she said.
"From Miami."

"From your what?"
Karen tittered. "Not your ami, silly. My ami. Miami."

26   PIERS ANTHONY
The centaur scowled, confused. ' 'What part of Xanth is

that?"

"It's part of Florida, America."

The centaur tilted his head and swished his tail, sur-
prised. "Are you by any chance from Mundania?"

"No, Florida."
"Did you come through the Gate?"
Karen looked around. "We sure must've come through
somewhere, because this isn't much like home."

The centaur put away his bow. "This is near the Gate
aperture. The Turn Key normally supervises it, compe-
tently enough for a human. Perhaps something went
wrong, and you came through unaware."

"We must've been blown through," Karen agreed. "It
sure was windy. Till we were in the eye."
"An eye gazed at you?"

She giggled. "The eye of the hurry-cane. Happy Bot-
tom."

"Cheerful posterior?" The centaur glanced at his hand-
some rump.

"You're funny! The center of the storm."
"Ah, the storm. We shall have to see what we can do.
Let us introduce ourselves. I am Cedric Centaur the tenth,

of Centaur Isle."

"I'm Karen Baldwin," Karen said.

' 'I must say, you don't look bald. Is that a magic hair-
piece?"

Karen felt her wild tangle of blown, slept-in hair. "I
don't think so. It's just the way I grew it. It's always wild
in the morning until Mom brushes it down."

Cedric smiled. "Our foals have a similar problem. We
try to keep the tangle weeds clear, but more keep appear-
ing."

"Should we shake hands?" Karen asked, uncertain of

the protocol.

Cedric lifted one hand and made it shake slightly. "I do
not see the point, unless you are bothered by flies."

YON ILL WIND   27

She suppressed another titter. "No, I mean our two
hands together, to show we are friendly."

"How quaint."

She raised her hand high, and the centaur reached his
hand low, and they shook hands. "And that's my family,"
she said, nodding behind her. Dad had been joined by the
others, all appearing somewhat stunned.

"Indubitably. Follow me." He turned and walked away.

Karen turned to address her family. "Well?" she in-
quired. "Are you coming?" She knew she had pretty well
one-upped them, and it was a great feeling.

The four of them exchanged about six glances in a scant
second. Then they fell in behind without comment.

The winds remained high, blowing the foliage of nearby
trees to one side. Some of the foliage looked like green
tentacles. It was pleasantly weird. -

Cedric led them to a village made of stalls. There were
other centaurs there: stallions, mares, fillies, colts, and
foals. None of them wore any clothing. Only the smallest
paid them any attention. They were busy repairing dam-
aged structures. The high winds had blown some of the
stall roofs off.

They came to a central pavilion where a young stallion
of about Sean's age stood. "I found these Mundanes near
the shore," Cedric said. "They call themselves the Bald-
win family, and seem to be stranded here. There may be
a rift in the Gate. Take care of the matter, Carleton." He
turned and trotted back the way they had come.

Carleton stepped forward. "Welcome to Centaur Isle,"
he said. "Unfortunately you can't remain here, unless you
care to become servants. As Mundanes, you have no
magic, which is good; nevertheless I suspect you will be
better off on mainland Xanth, among your own kind."

Dad finally got hold of himself. "Just exactly what kind
of a place is this?"

Carleton paused, briefly considering. "You have no
prior knowledge of Xanth?"

"Unless you are referring to a yellow nitrogenous com-

28   PIERS ANTHONY

pound, xanthine—" Dad paused at the centaur's blank
look. "Evidently not. Then we know nothing of this."

"Then perhaps we should exchange information,"
Carleton said. "Would you like a meal while we con-
verse?"

"Yes!" Karen said, as usual, before she thought. They

hadn't had breakfast yet, and she was hungry.

Carleton lifted one hand, and in a moment a filly centaur
trotted over, her large full firm bare breasts quivering in a
way that made Sean and David stare. Karen felt a tinge of
resentment, because she knew that never in her fullest fu-
ture adult-maturity would she ever develop a bosom like
that. "Yes, Carleton?" she inquired.

"Sheila,-these Mundanes are in need of fodder."
"Coming right up," Sheila agreed, trotting bouncily off.
"Fodder?" David asked.

But soon the filly returned with big bowls of odd fresh
fruit and other items. She set them on a table under the
pavilion. "Yellows, greens, reds, and oranges," she said,
indicating the fruits. "Pink, purple, black, and blue berries.
A loaf of breadfruit and a butterfly. And milkweed pods."
She glanced at Karen. "Including chocolate."

Mom lifted the breadfruit. It fell into several slices. She
picked up the butterfly. Its wings detached and flew away,
leaving the butter to be used. "These will do nicely," she
said, terrifically poised. "Thank you, Sheila."

The filly made a partial bow with her foresection that
almost made Sean's eyeballs pop out of his head. m fact,
Karen's own almost popped, and she was a girl. She had
once sneaked a peek at an X-rated video, but these were
more than those, and better formed. Then Sheila trotted
off, evidently to Mom's relief.

Karen picked up the chocolate milkweed pod and
sniffed it. Then she bit off the end. Sure enough, chocolate
milk, and very good. Meanwhile the boys piled into the
various-colored fruits and berries. Mom passed a slice of
buttered bread to Dad, and started another for herself.

"The Land of Xanth is magical," Carleton said. "There

YON ILL WIND   29

are many magical artifacts, and most human beings possess
magic talents, one to each person. Centaurs don't, of
course; we regard magic in our own kind as obscene. But
sometimes it happens. My sister Chena—" He winced.
"But that is irrelevant. We centaurs use magic tools on
occasion, however. Beyond Xanth is Mundania, a rather
dreary region because of its lack of magic. The normal
route to Mundania is to the north and west, via the isthmus.
That may be your route of choice, to return to your home-
land. Now, if I may inquire, what are the details of your
arrival here?"

Dad filled him in on the drive and the storm, and how
they's stalled out on No Name Key. "You mentioned a
gate," he concluded. "That must be a connection between
our two realms. The eye of the storm passed over us, and
perhaps swept us into this, um, dimension. Unless this is
after all some experimental project on No Name Key."

"Centaur Isle is no experiment," Carleton said firmly.
"We constructed it centuries ago, from the scattered islets
of the region. It is low on magic by our preference. But
on the mainland you will see a great deal of magic, if you
wish. However, I must advise you that much of it is dan-
gerous to the uninitiated. Have you had experience with
dragons?"

"Dragons!" David exclaimed. "Really? Can I see
one?"

Carleton glanced coolly at him. "I doubt that would be
wise. Dragons are best avoided, unless one is proficient
with archery or has protective enchantment."

Mom spoke up. "Are you saying that the whole of Flor-
ida—of Xanth—is magical? That fantastic creatures
abound there?"

"Exactly. We can arrange to notify the human author-
ities at Castle Roogna of your presence. They may send a
detachment to assist you, because you surely do not wish
to travel Xanth alone."

"A castle?" Karen asked, excited anew. She loved any-
thing fantastic.

30   PIERS ANTHONY

"Castle Roogna is the capital of the human beings." the
centaur explained. "Their King Dor should be interested."

"A King!" Karen exclaimed, really truly delighted.
"This land's got everything."

"But we can't leave our RV," Mom said, ruining things
with her practicality. "We have to fix it and drive home."

"Not to mention the pets," Dad added.

That really got Karen. "Woofer! Midrange! Tweeter!

They're alone!"

"They've been alone before, twerp," David reminded

her.

"There are others in your party?" Carleton asked.

"Our pet animals," Sean explained. "We encountered
you folk so suddenly that we never thought to fetch them
out of the RV."

"What manner of creatures are these?"

"Woofer's a dog, Midrange's a cat, and Tweeter's a
bird," Karen said quickly. "They're part of the family.
We've got to get them."

"Of course you must, before you depart the Isle."

"First we have to get our RV running," Dad said.
"And—where's the nearest gas station?"

Carleton's brow furrowed. "I do not believe I know of

that creature."

"For gasoline. The fuel. You don't use gasoline here?
Maybe you call it petrol?"

"We do have pet-rel seabirds. However—"

"Petroleum. Refined from oil."

The centaur shook his head. "I suspect we are on dif-
ferent subjects. Our pet-rels merely fly and seek fish. They
do make good pets, of course, but they have no known
connection with oil, apart from that with which they preen

their feathers."

Dad shook his head. "I think we're in trouble. But first
things first. Maybe I can get the motor running. Then
maybe we'll have enough gas left to get us home, if we
can find the way."

YON ILL WIND   31

"This creature is ailing? You did say that it was limp-
ing."

"It's not a creature," Dad said. "It's a motor home. A
recreational vehicle, RV. The motor was skipping, and fi-
nally quit. Maybe salt water blew into it."

"Would healing elixir cure it?"

Dad paused. "Maybe you should take a look at it, and
form your own conclusion."

"Certainly. I will bring a vial of elixir."

They finished their meal, and started back. Karen was
openly admiring Carleton's handsome equine body. She
liked all animals, but especially horses.

The centaur caught her gaze. "You are small, Karen
Human," he said. "Would you prefer me to carry you?"

She was immediately abashed. "Gee, no—I don't know
how to—someday maybe I'll get riding lessons—I'd just
fall off." But how she longed to try it.

"You will not fall," he said.

Karen looked pleadingly at Mom, who was sure to say
no, but maybe possibly just this once might not. Mom
sighed and looked away: her way of not quite opposing it.

So Dad picked her up by the armpits and set her on the
centaur's sturdy back. She grabbed on to the fur in front
of her, hoping she would be able to hold her position.

Carleton took a step—and Karen didn't lose her balance
despite the lack of a saddle. Somehow the way he moved
supported her, giving her confidence. It was as though he
were balancing her, compensating for the motions he
made. She was, indeed, in no danger of falling. It was
glorious.

They walked back to the RV. Now it was time to dis-
mount, but Karen wasn't sure how. Then the centaur put
back one hand, and she grabbed his hand and steadied
herself as she slid down. "Thank you! Thank you," she
babbled. "That was the greatest ride ever!"

He smiled faintly. "You remind me of my little sister."

"Gee, where is she?"

"She was exiled." His mouth closed so firmly that she

32    PlERSANTHONY

knew he would say no more on that subject.

They entered the RV, where the pets were glad to see
them. Sean put Woofer on a leash, and David did the same
for Midrange. Some folk thought that cats couldn't be
leash-trained, but so many cats had been killed in the
neighborhood, mostly getting hit by'cars, that they had
done it with this one, and Midrange was used to it.

Tweeter was another matter. He always stayed close to
Karen when they went out, and would come to her when
she lifted a finger for him to perch on, so he had more
freedom. She brought him out, proudly perched.

All three animals were obviously surprised by the cen-
taur. They stood and stared, evidently not sure whether to

be friendly or hostile.

"There is one on the mainland who has a cat-pet,"
Carleton said. "Her name is Jenny Elf." Then he turned
to the vehicle. "This is a house?"

"A combination house and motor vehicle," Dad said.
"You might call it a house that moves."

"A magic house," the centaur agreed. "How does it

move?"

"The motor is connected to the wheels, making them

turn and move it forward." Dad opened the motor com-
partment. "Here is the motor. I couldn't find any loose
wires, so it's something more subtle. I'm not an auto me-
chanic, so my expertise is limited."

"Mine is surely less, in this connection," Carleton said.
"I make no sense of this at all. Can you make it operate

now?"

"I'll try, just in case." Dad got in and cranked the

starter. The motor coughed once, but wouldn't catch.

"Amazing," the centaur said. "It does seem to be alive,
but in very bad health. I will try the elixir." He brought
out a vial and sprinkled a few drops of liquid on the motor.
Karen stifled a smile; she didn't know beans about motors,
but even she was sure that wouldn't do a thing for it. She
saw the boys reacting similarly.

Dad tried the starter again—and the motor caught. Sud-

YON ILL WIND   33

denly it was not only running, it was purring.

Several jaws dropped. "That's either one bleep of a co-
incidence," Sean auittered. "Or—"

Dad got out, leaving the motor running. "What did you
do?" he asked. "Suddenly it's perfect."

"I simply sprinkled some healing elixir on it," Carleton
said. "Normally it has little effect on anything inanimate,
but your motor creature seems to be animate, and I had
nothing better to try. I'm glad it helped. Your house should
be all right now, because it is completely healed." He
frowned. "Though I still do not see how it can move."

"Watch," Dad said, and got back in. In a moment the
RV nudged forward. It drove in a circle, and stopped
where it had been. Then the engine died. "Nosense wast-
ing gas until we actually go," Dad said, emerging.

"This is phenomenal," the centaur said, obviously im-
pressed. "A rolling house. I have not seen such a thing
before."

"But there seem to be no paved roads here," Mom said
worriedly. "And no bridges. We have nowhere to drive."

"I believe there is a high-way on the mainland," Carle-
ton said. "Unfortunately, it is a troll pike. You have to
pay the trolls at every turn."

"We're used to that," Dad said. "How do we get across
to the mainland?"

"We shall be glad to ferry you across. We can have a
craft ready by noon."

"But the winds remain so high," Mom said, worried
again. "It wouldn't be safe."

"We can handle»it," Carleton said in the same tone he
had used when assuring Karen about riding.

Mom looked dubious, but didn't argue. So the centaur
trotted off, leaving them to make ready for the trip.

Dad shook his head. "I find today hard to believe," he
said. "But I'll feel better when we get on that highway."

The others agreed. The centaurs seemed nice, but this
whole business was pretty weird. Karen was looking for-
ward to getting home and telling all her skeptical friends

r

34   PIERS ANTHONY

about where they'd been. Nobody would ever believe her;

that was the fun of it.

Promptly at noon, a big raft poled uato view, with four
muscular centaurs at its comers. At the same time, Carle-
ton and Sheila Centaur galloped up from the village. Again
the boys' eyes threatened to pop at the sight of the filly's
front, and even Dad's eyes might have strained a little.
Mom's mouth tightened ever so slightly: not the best sign.
Karen was good at reading small signals; it kept her from
getting into as much trouble as she deserved. So she didn't

giggle, quite.

"I thought you would appreciate something to eat on
the way," Sheila said, presenting them with a big bag
marked GOODIES. "More milk pods, honey buns, nuts and
bolts—"

"Bolts?" David asked.

She brought out what did indeed look like a bolt and
gave it to him. He sniffed it, then bit off the end. It seemed
to be similar to a nut. "Chocolate flavored!" he said.

"I could get to like this filly," Sean murmured, though
his eyes weren't on the bolt. Sheila tossed back her lovely
brown tress/mane and smiled at him, not at all self-
conscious.

The raft nudged in to the shore. ' 'Now, if you will have
your house creature get on, we shall take it across to the
mainland," Carieton said. "I have communicated with the
Good Magician, who says he will send you a guide. She
will arrive in late afternoon with her companion; Sheila
will introduce you before she returns here."

"Sheila's crossing with us?" Sean-asked, his eyeballs
threatening to go into orbit.

' 'We would not want it claimed that we of the Isle were
inhospitable to those who found themselves here through
no fault of their own," Carieton said. "Normally we dis-
courage unauthorized visits, but we do allow for special
circumstances. We are doing what we can to see you safely
on your way. The Good Magician is competent, and you
should be able to progress with the help of his guide."

YON ILL WIND   35

"Uh, thank you," Dad said. "We appreciate your hos-
pitality and assistance. Perhaps we shall meet again."

"This is doubtful." Carieton nodded, then turned tail
and trotted off. Dad went to the RV.

"He is a bit saddened by the loss of his little sister,"
Sheila confided. "If you should happen to encounter her,
I'm sure he would appreciate news of her current state."

"Why was she exiled?" Karen asked.

Sheila's mouth tightened. "She was found to have a
magic talent. She was a good person, but that is simply
not allowed among centaurs of the Isle. We consider it
obscene."

"I guess you don't want to know what we consider ob-
scene," David said brightly.

"If you are typical of your species, you consider your
natural body and its natural functions, other than eating,
to be obscene," she replied evenly. "Therefore you cover
your body with clothing, evidently ashamed of it, and pre-
tend that you have no natural functions, especially not def-
ecation or reproductive capacity."

Karen looked at David. "Well, I guess she flushed your
toilet," she said, drawing on an old saying she had re-
searched from a book of dated vernacular.

"I guess she did," David agreed, bemused. "I think I
like the centaur way better."

"Me too," Karen agreed.

Mom and Sean exchanged a Significant Glance. Karen
made a mental note: Sean was getting to be too much like
an adult.

The RV started up and moved slowly toward the raft. It
nudged onto the planking, fitting comfortably. Then David
and Karen ran to put the blocks at the wheels so it couldn't
roll off even if the brakes didn't hold.

When they were all safely aboard, the centaurs shoved
off. Then they unfurled a sail and tied it firmly in place.
The winds remained quite stiff, so this gave the raft plenty
of push. It moved obliquely against the wind, tacking. The
muscular centaurs clearly knew what they were doing.

36   PIERS ANTHONY

Each had his station, whether at sail, tiller, pole, or guard,
and was intent on his business.

"This is a good time to eat," Sheila said. "It will take
a while to cross the channel, and thereafter you may be
distracted by the things of the mainland."

Mom recovered some of her normal aplomb. "Will you
join us in the meal, Sheila?"

"Of course," the centaur said. "Let me set up toad
stools for you." She went to a box at one side and brought
forth stools that were indeed shaped like toads, and when
they sat on them, the stools made "Ribbit!" croaking

sounds.

"Now, that's interesting," Dad remarked. "Where we
come from, toads are silent; only frogs croak."

"Mundania is surely a curious place," Sheila said po-
litely. "Our toads accept no such constraints."

They ate their interesting meal as the raft forged across
the channel to the mainland. The shoreline seemed to be
solid jungle with strange-looking trees, but there was a
golden beach. "The Gold Coast," Sheila explained. In due
course they came aground, and Dad drove the RV onto

land.

"I will show you to the landing site," Sheila said. "It
should not be long now before your guide arrives. Can
your moving house travel at trotting velocity?"

"If it has firm, level terrain," Dad said. "This beach

seems suitable."

"It is at the edge of the Gold Coast," the centaur said.
"Thereafter you will use the trollway, which is certainly
firm. I shall run ahead, and you may follow at such speed
as your house can manage."

They piled into the RV, and Dad started the engine. He
turned west to follow Sheila. The kids all looked out the
windshield to see how it went.

At first the centaur walked. As they caught up to her,
she trotted. Then, as the RV caught up again, she broke
into a gallop, her hair/mane flying back. "I wish I could
see her from the front," Sean murmured.

YON ILL WIND   37

"You have seen more than enough of her already,"
Mom replied primly.

They got going at about twenty-five miles an hour,
which seemed to be the centaur's cruising speed. Soon
they came to what looked like nothing so much as a giant
pillow sitting on the sand. Here Sheila stopped, so they
did too.

"My, your house does move well," the centaur said.
She was breathing hard, which surely provided Sean with
all the view he could have desired. "I am beginning to
suspect that Mundania is not as dreary a region as re-
puted."

"It does have its points," Dad said.

Sheila looked at her wrist watch, which turned out to be
two eyes painted on her wrist. They winked at her in what
must have been a meaningful pattern. "Your guide should
arrive soon," she said.

They settled down to wait for the arrival of the guide.

3
CHLORINE

Chlorine was enjoying herself. It was fun being
beautiful and smart, in the company of a handsome
and smart (but mute) man. But her enjoyment was
fading. There was no one to see her in her lovely brilliance,
and Nimby was more apparent than real. That was to say,
he had the appearance but not the reality of a princely man.
And he was the cause of her good fortune. So he didn't
really count. She needed to be among real people, whose
admiration and envy meant something. But she couldn't
go to her home village, where someone might possibly

38   PIERS ANTHONY

recognize her and know her present beauty for a fraud, and
she didn't know enough about any other village to go
there. So how was she to find a suitable place to show off
to real people? She put her fine new mind to work on the
problem.

Then a bright bulb flashed above her head. She would
go to the Good Magician with a Question! That was a
legitimate activity, and of course, she would have to do a
year's Service for him, and in all that time she would be
able to show off legitimately. She might even accomplish
something useful, assuming the Service was of a useful
kind, and the new niceness in her appreciated that.

But she needed a Question. What would be legitimate?
What did she really want to know?

After a moment the bulb flashed again. How she loved
this good mind, which performed so much better than her
old one had; when she posed a question for it, it took hold
with the power of twenty centaurs. She would ask where
her lost final tear was. She had wondered about that for
years, and now she could finally find out.

"Nimby," she announced, "we are going to the Good
Magician's castle to ask him a Question."

Nimby looked at her doubtfully. He seemed a bit
alarmed. Maybe he thought the Good Magician Humfrey
wouldn't like him.

"Not to worry," she said reassuringly. "I'll tell him
how nice you have been to me, though you're really just
a donkey-headed dragon. I'm sure he'll understand."

Nimby did not seem entirely reassured, but she was sure
he would relax when he saw that it was all right. The Good
Magician knew everything, so he would know that Nimby
was nice, and if he had any doubt, he could simply look
him up in his Big Book of Answers and immediately learn
everything about the mute dragon. So there was no call to
be concerned on that score.

But there was one small immediate problem: she didn't
know the way to the Good Magician's castle. She lived in
the northeast section of Xanth, and the Good Magician was

YON ILL WIND   39

somewhere in the center of Xanth. It was surely a long
and difficult route there.

But maybe Nimby could help. "Nimby, I want to reach
the Good Magician's castle swiftly and safely and com-
fortably. Do you know a way?"

Nimby nodded yes.

"Then show me that way."

Nimby set off at a swift walk toward a neighboring vil-
lage. He soon found a clear path, and in three moments
and an instant or two they were at the village limit. She
knew because there was a sign saying JACKS ON VILLE. Oh,
yes, she remembered now; every person in this village was
named Jack or Jackie, and they all worked to harvest as-
sorted jacks. Little jacks were six-pointed twists of wire
that children could play with, while big jacks were solid
metal twists used to lift heavy things. So it was a thriving
community.

Nimby led her to a metal box beside the sign. This was
labeled PHONE JACK, and there was a little plug dangling
on a wire by it. So she lifted the wire and plugged its end
into a hole in the box. A slot opened, and a voice brayed:

"Whatcha want. Jackass?"

"I'm not the jackass," Chlorine said, realizing that it
had mistaken her for her companion. "I'm just looking for
a quick way to the Good Magician's Castle."

"Well, pony up some jack, then," the voice said.

Chlorine looked around. There was a pile of lettuce
leaves nearby. Her bright mind realized that a pony should
like that, so she picked up a leaf and wedged it into the
slot.

"Not enough," the voice said. "We're jacking up the
price."

So she jammed in more lettuce. "This guy's a knave,"
she muttered to Nimby."

"Right—the Jack of diamonds," the voice retorted.
"Now I'll run up the Union Jack to signal a crackerjack
cab. You have some applejack while you wait."

So they sat at the nearby table, where there was a jug

40   PIERS ANTHONY

of cider, and drank cups of it while waiting. It had a tangy
taste, and was very good. Soon Chlorine's head was spin-
ning pleasantly.

A burly man appeared on the path. He had a big double-
bitted axe slung over his shoulder.

"Are you the cab?" Chlorine inquired, admiring his
muscles.

"I'm no cad," the man protested. "I'm just a passing
lumberjack." He glanced at the jug. "But you'd be best
off, miss, to ease off on that applejack before your head
spins off."

Chlorine put her hands up to stop her head from com-
pleting another revolution. It did make her feel less dizzy.
"Thank you."

"You're welcome, lovely lass." The man ambled on.

Chlorine flushed with pleasure at his compliment. Then
she remembered that she really was lovely, now, so the
compliment was well deserved. Still, it was a pleasure she
was not well accustomed to, so she knew she would con-
tinue to enjoy it.

In due course a cloud of dust zoomed up and abruptly
stopped. On its side was printed SPEED DEMON CAB. A door
opened in its side.

Chlorine didn't quite trust this. She looked at Nimby.
Nimby got up and climbed into the cab. So she followed.
It had a plush seat in the back, wide enough for the two
of them.

The door slammed closed. The cab leaped into motion
with a loud squeal. Suddenly they were zooming at fright-
ening speed along the path; the tree trunks were passing
at a blurring rate. "Are you sure—?" Chlorine asked
Nimby.

Nimby nodded yes. So she relaxed. There was another
seat ahead of them, and beyond that a transparent pane,
and beyond that the onrushing forest. They were going
somewhere very fast.

She saw a sign in the front. It said "YOUR DRIVER: De-
mon Strator. Unsafe, unreliable, discourteous."

r

YON ILL WIND   41

For some reason, that caused her to be worried again.
"Nimby, that sign—"

Then a creature appeared on the front seat. It had horns,
so did seem to be a demon. "That's just to scare away
low tippers," Strator said. "You paid plenty of jack in
advance, so you have nothing much to fear. Unless I lose
control." The cab swerved perilously close to a tree.

"Oh." Chlorine pondered. "What is a tip?"

"From you, I will accept a kiss, you luscious creature."

She glanced again at Nimby, who nodded, so she leaned
forward and kissed the demon on his right ear.

The cab zoomed into the air, looped, and landeti again
at speed. "Hoo!" Strator said. "That's one potent kiss!"

"Thank you," she said, blushing. It was fun, because
she had seldom had cause to blush before.

The cab zoomed on until it came to a squealing halt at
the very brink of an awesomely deep crevasse. "Trans-
fer," Strator announced. "The Gap Chasm is beyond my
range."

"Thank you," Chlorine said, climbing out of the cab.
"I think you're a nice speed demon."

This time it was the demon who blushed. He turned a
rich royal purple, and steam rose from him. "Gotta go
now," he muttered, and the cab spun about and zoomed
back northeast.

It was now dusk, so the speedy ride had taken at least
some time. A large dark shape swooped out of the deep
shadow of the Gap and landed before them. It seemed to
be a bird almost as big as a roc, completely black. It
clutched a small basket in its talons, and on the basket was

a tag: FLY BY NIGHT.

Chlorine nodded. That surely meant that this bird flew
only by night, so their timing was right.

Nimby climbed into the basket, which turned out to be
much larger than it had first appeared; the bird's size had
dwarfed it. Chlorine joined him. Then the bird spread its
wings and hopped over the brink, into the chasm.

Chlorine's gizzard surged up to her throat as the basket

42   PIERS ANTHONY

dropped, not realizing that the rest of her was falling. Then
the wings caught the dark air, and things settled into place.

They sailed not across, but along inside the chasm, re-
maining in its pooled darkness while the last of daylight
touched its rims and the clouds floating above it. Chlorine
peered down, hoping to catch a glimpse of the notorious
Gap Dragon, but all she saw was palpable blackness. Since
she didn't feel like palpating it, she tried to ignore it. Then,
as the darkness rose beyond the Gap and spread across the
terrain of Xanth proper, the bird lifted out and flew low
over the jungle. Chlorine saw the lights of little fires be-
low, where the folk of Xanth had their hearths, or maybe
those were dragons pumping up their bellies for nocturnal
hunting. It was all rather pretty.

The lights of a castle came into sight, showing its walls
and turrets. That wasn't pretty, it was perfectly beautiful!
Chlorine stared in rapt wonder, wishing she could visit a
castle like that. It must be so great to live in such an ed-
ifice, to be a Princess, or even a serving maid. She just
felt such longing for the kind of life she would never have.
She might be beautiful now, but when she stopped keeping
company with Nimby she would revert to her normal,
dreary self, and her dream of the, moment would be over.
She would have shed a tear for her lost dream, if she only
knew where her last tear was.               *

But of course, that was why she was going to see the
Good Magician. So she laughed, instead, but there was a
deep tinge of regret in it.

Then the bird flew right up to that beautiful castle, and
landed outside its moat. This was her destination!

Nimby climbed out of the basket, and she followed.
Then .the fly-by-night bird departed, swiftly and silently.
They were alone in the night beside the glorious lighted
castle.

Chlorine was sure she knew better than to try to pass
the challenges and enter the castle at night. She would wait
until morning. That would give her the chance to get some
sleep, too.

YON ILL WIND   43

Then her bright though sleepy mind thought of some-
thing. "Nimby—do you need to sleep?"

The handsome man-form shook his head no.

"So it won't be an imposition for you to stay awake
and guard me from possible harm? I mean, I think you're
a great creature, but I don't want to wear you out before
your time." She laughed ruefully. "In my natural self I
wouldn't have thought to ask that, because I wouldn't have
cared. But I'm nice now, so I do care. And it's practical
too, because you're all that makes me so wonderful. So
it's okay?"

Nimby nodded yes.

"Okay. You keep watch, and wake me one instant be-
fore dawn, so I can see the sunrise. I'm sure I'll appreciate
its beauty much more than I used to." She started to gather
some leaves to make a bed, then had another thought.
"Would it bother you to revert to your natural form, so I
could use you as a pillow? Don't hesitate to say no, be-
cause—''

Nimby's donkey-headed dragon form was back. He lay
on the ground, and she lay down and put her head against
his side. It had scales, but now the scales were soft.

"You know, you do look funny," she remarked. "But
the more things you do for me, the more I like you, even
as you are now. I hope that doesn't embarrass you."

Nimby wiggled an ear, seeming pleased rather than em-
barrassed. Chlorine stretched, snuggled down, and faded
quickly into sleep.

She woke as something tickled her nose. "Who? What?"
she asked, surprised. Then she realized that it was one of
Nimby's ears touching her. She had told him to wake her
an instant before dawn, and he had done it. "Thanks," she
said.

An instant passed, and dawn-appeared. Colored rays of
light speared up into the sky, brightening it. Nearby clouds
glowed. Then, when it was safely light, the sun poked its

44   PIERS ANTHONY

face up from behind the trees. The sun never came out at
night, because it was afraid of the dark.

"Oh, it's beautiful, just as I knew it would be!" Chlo-
rine exclaimed. "Thank you. Nimby, for waking me in
time." She rubbed his donkey ears affectionately.

She got up and considered. "You fetch us something
good to eat, while I attend to my morning ablutions," she
said.

Nimby trundled off, and she found a bush for some busi-
ness, then brought out her brush and went over her hair.
It was now gloriously luxuriant, glistening in the bright-
ening light of day. It was still greenish yellow, but now
the green was the luster of healthy plants, and the yellow
was the burnish of gold. She gazed into a puddle, and saw
her reflection: she resembled a princess just awakening
from beauteous slumber. It was really too bad this adven-
ture would have to end sometime.

She returned to where they had slept, and saw Nimby
approaching with a mouthful of fresh chocolate and vanilla
pies. He must have found a good pie tree. His mouth in
this form was quite large, so there was a good collection
of large pies, and none of them was damaged.

Then she had a second thought. "Will I get fat, eating
such stuff?"

Nimby shook his head no. He ought to know, as he was
the one who had transformed her. So Chlorine dived in
with gusto. The dragon watched, seeming pleased.

Until her third thought. "Aren't you hungry. Nimby?
You should have some pie too."

Nimby hesitated, then nodded yes. But still he looked
at the pies somewhat doubtfully.

"Oh, in your natural form you could gobble them all
up, and leave no more for me? Then change into your
handsome man-form, and you won't need as much."

The dragon disappeared, and the handsome man ap-
peared. Nimby man took a pie and began to eat. He
seemed to like it well enough.

Chlorine's fourth thought caught up with her. "Biting

YON ILL WIND   45

bugs! They must be all over, in the night—but I wasn't
bitten. Were you protecting me from that harm too?"

Nimby nodded.

"I don't know what I'll do without you, when this
ends," she said. "I'm really getting to like this adventure,
and we haven't even done anything significant or naughty
yet." She eyed the man, but decided that naughtiness
could wait; she had three challenges to pass to get into the
castle.

In due course, not one moment overdue, they went to
stand at the bank of the moat. The castle was lovely in the
early morning, too. The moat was calm, and seemed to be
without a moat monster. There was a drawbridge, but it
was raised; no way to cross by foot. However, there was
a boat tied to a stake in the bank.

She saw something lying in the grass at her feet, and
stooped to pick it up. It was a marking pen, the kind that
she had used in the past to mark children's names on cloth-
ing. There was no sense wasting it, so she put it in her
purse.

"Well, let's get to it. Nimby," she said briskly. "It's
my challenge, so you just follow along as I work things
out. I'm sure you know how to handle each challenge, but
I think it wouldn't count if you gave me any hints. Besides,
I should enjoy the thrill of it. I want to put this good mind
of mine to the test."

She stepped toward the boat—and a large ferocious bat
appeared from nowhere. It flew straight at her, then banked
and veered away at the last half instant. She saw the word
COM on its underside as it did.

Chlorine was taken aback. In fact, she almost sat down
as she was taken back too far and lost her footing. For-
tunately she recovered her feet before going down. When
she had been a plain nothing girl it wouldn't have mattered
if she'd sprawled turvy-topsy and showed her panties to
the sky, but now she was a luscious creature, and the hu-
miliation would have been awful.

46   PIERS ANTHONY

"That's no ordinary bat," she said. "That's a com-bat!
I'll never be able to pass it."

Nimby, behind her, shrugged, neither agreeing nor dis-
agreeing. He was being neutral. That made her suspicious,
not of his motive, which was surely amicable, but that
there was a way, and he was trying not to give it away.
And of course, there was a way, because otherwise it
wouldn't be a legitimate Good Magician challenge.

She pondered a moment, and cogitated an instant, and
thought a while, knowing that this would not be easy un-
less she found the right approach. It wouldn't do to try to
get around the bat, or to fight it. She had to outsmart it,
or at least figure out the proper way to denature it. There
had to be something obscure that would be obvious the
moment she thought of it. Because that was the way every-
one knew the Good Magician's challenges were. He didn't
want just anybody barging in to pester him with Questions,
so he made it difficult to reach him, but he did play fair,
by his definition. By anyone else's definition he was a
grouchy gnome, of course, but nobody else's definition
counted for much here. So what was there? Her fine new
mind focused, exploring possibilities and bypaths at a rapid
rate. What was obscure but obvious? There wasn't any-
thing special in the landscape; no evidence of doors to
underground bypasses or such. In fact, the only thing even
a quarter way remarkable was the marking pen she had
found.

Ha! That was surely it! Things did not just lie around
the Good Magician's premises;everything was here for a
reason. So this had to be the key.

She brought out the pen. It was just a garden-variety
marker, somewhat used but still serviceable. How could
this ever help her?

Her good mind focused on the problem. Assuming that
this was the key, how would it operate? It was a pen, a
marker, a—a Magic Marker? To mark the com-bat? That
seemed unlikely, because the bat would destroy her lovely,
beautiful but not phenomenally muscular or armored body

YON ILL WIND   47

before she got close enough to do that. A pen was made
mainly for writing—

For writing. Suppose she wrote something with it—
something that would help her? Like GO AWAY COM-BAT?

She fished in her purse and found a little notepad. She
took the cap off the marker pen and wrote GO AWAY COM-
BAT. .

Nothing happened. But of course, she hadn't tested it
yet. She took half a step toward the moat—and the bat
zoomed up before her, threateningly. She hastily canceled
the rest of her step and retreated, and the bat zoomed away.

Obviously that wasn't it. But maybe she just hadn't
found the right way to use it. How else would a magic
marker work? She couldn't think of anything much, de-
spite her superior mind.

She glanced at Nimby, but he remained carefully neu-
tral. And she wasn't about to ask for his help anyway.
"Um, if you want to take a nap or something—" No, he
didn't sleep, he claimed. "Maybe play a mental game that
entertains you? I hate to bore you with my indecisions."

Nimby nodded, and went into a state of repose. She
wondered what a donkey-headed dragon had to think
about. At some point she would ask him. But now she had
other business.

She crossed out her message—and there was a tiny
shimmer around her. She looked around, afraid that a
quake monster might be approaching to shake her up, but
all was normal. So it must have been an indication of
magic. Crossing out the message had canceled it, and that
had had magical effect. If only she knew what it was.

She focused her mind once more. Why was she having
so much trouble with what should be a simple matter?
Somehow it seemed that even her old, dull self would have
figured it out by now.

Then a dim bulb flashed over her head. Maybe this chal-
lenge was geared to her regular self. Maybe the Good Ma-
gician didn't realize that she was now much smarter. Or
maybe he realized, but didn't care. So he had set her a

48   PIERS ANTHONY

simple challenge, and she was being too intellectual about
it.

"So let's try it the dull old-fashioned way," she said.

She turned a page on the pad and wrote COM-BAT. Then
she crossed out the c and wrote w. And felt the trace tingle
of magic. Had it worked?

She stepped forward—and there was a small furry crea-
ture standing barely knee-high to her. It was a wombat. It
tried to bar her way, but she simply stepped around it and
proceeded. She had done it! She had used the magic
marker to change the name, converting the deadly creature
to a harmless one. The key had been in naming it, and
changing the name. Obvious—to a nonintellectual person.

She came to the bank of the moat. Now, where was that
dock and boat she had seen? She saw the boat, but now it
was perched on muck, and between her and it was the
biggest, hugest, hairiest, awfulest spider she could remem-
ber encountering. It wasn't big enough to gobble her down
in a single bite, but three or four bites would do it. Actually
spiders, as she remembered, didn't gobble prey down
whole; they trussed them up in spiderwebs and sucked the
juice out. But she didn't want to be juiced, either, no mat-
ter how juicy her current luscious body was.

Chlorine was retreating as she pondered; it seemed to
be the expedient thing to do. The spider did not follow. In
fact, it had disappeared—and there was the dock she had
seen before. So she reversed course, trying to reach the
dock before the spider returned—and the spider reap-
peared. And the dock was gone.

Something was definitely odd. The spider wasn't block-
ing her view of the dock; she could see handily around it.
There simply was no dock. Was she up against illusion?
In which case, which was the illusion: the spider or the
dock? It made a difference.

She retreated a step, this time watching the spider. And
the spider disappeared—and the dock reappeared. They
were changing into each other! This was a dock spider.

Her fine mind began to take hold. This was definitely a

YON ILL WIND   49

challenge, and she surely wouldn't be able to handle it by
writing the word SPIDER on her pad and changing the SP
to c. Even if that worked, what good would it do her, since
she didn't want cider, she wanted that dock so she could
get in the boat without muddying her pretty little feet. She
needed to get to that dock without it changing into the
spider. How could she do that?

What was the stupidly simple answer? Immediately it
came to her: bribe the spider. But what would it want,
aside from a long session sucking her succulence? What
else did she have that might appeal to it?

The magic marker! She no longer needed it, but maybe
the spider would like it. If she made a good enough case
for it, in spider terms.

She stepped toward the spider, though she was prepared
to backpedal at a furious rate if she had to. "Hey, hand-
some creature!" she called. "How would you like some-
thing nice?"

The spider wiggled its mandibles, and a drop of slaver
fell to the ground, where it smoked quietly as it digested
an unfortunate little poul-tree that hadn't even yet grown
its first chick, let alone the roc bird it might have made at
maturity. Chlorine felt sorry for it, but knew she couldn't
help the tree.

"No, you can't have me," she said quickly. "Under this
pretty exterior I'm just a plain and rather tasteless person
anyway. But I have something that may appeal to you
more: a magic marker." She held it up. "This marker can
change things. For example, you could use it to change a
lug to a bug. Here, I'll demonstrate." She looked around
and spied a lug, which was a kind of nut from a nuts-and-
bolts tree. She picked it up and set it in front of her. Then
she wrote LUG on her notepad, and crossed out the letter
L and replaced it with the letter B. And the lug became a
bug.

"See—just the kind of magic you have always
wanted," she said enthusiastically. "Think what you could
do with a big lug! You could turn it into Xanth's biggest

50   PIERS ANTHONY

juiciest bug. And feast on it, snug as a lug in a rug."

The spider slavered some more. It liked the notion.

"And I will trade you this fine magic implement for one
favor," she continued persuasively. "All you have to do
is become the dock and let me get on board that boat. Then
you can have the magic marker and my pad of paper, so
that you can—" She hesitated, paused by an awkward
thought. "You do know how to write?"

But the spider shook its head no.

This was a problem. But her fine mind rose to meet it.
"Well; can you draw? Let me see if this works with pic-
tures." She found another lug and set it before her. She
quickly sketched a crude picture of it, then crossed it out
and drew an even cruder bug.

And the lug became a bug. It did work pictographically.
Maybe the Good Magician had figured she was too stupid
to read and write. Which was actually a pretty accurate
assessment; she had never gotten beyond the first year of
Centaur School, so could handle words of only one or two
syllables. If she had had to write "quintessential," she
would have expired.

"So if you can draw, you can use this marker," she
concluded. "I confess I don't know exactly how versatile
it is, but since there are a number of lugs around here, at
least you'll have all the bugs you want. Is it a deal?"

The spider nodded yes.

But now she had just the slightest, wee-est little tinge
of apprehension. Was this spider honorable? Suppose it
grabbed her and the marker? But then she concluded that
it must be honorable, because Otherwise the Good Magi-
cian wouldn't use it in a challenge. So she girded her
loin—no, that would be unmaidenly. She lifted her chin
and walked into the spider's range. If she had misjudged
the situation, and the spider grabbed her and tried to suck
her juice, she would turn its juices to poison and make it
sorry. But she hoped for the best.

The spider became the dock. Chlorine set dainty foot on
it and went to the boat. She climbed in. Then she set the

YON ILL WIND   51

magic marker on the dock, untied the boat's tether, picked
up its paddle, and shoved off. ' 'Nice doing business with
you," she called cheerily.

The spider reappeared, holding the marker in its man-
dibles. It waved at her with a long forelimb. She had
passed the second challenge.

Oops—-she had forgotten Nimby. "Hey, Nimby!" she
called. "Can you join me?"

Nimby walked down to the dock as Chlorine returned.
The spider obligingly changed form, allowing Nimby to
tread its planks and get into the boat. Maybe it realized
that Nimby was actually a dragon with impenetrable
scales, so wasn't anyone to fool with. Then they pushed
off again.

She paddled across the moat without incident. But she
knew there would be a third challenge. What would it be?
They were never the same, she understood. Just so long
as it wasn't a fierce moat monster, because she didn't know
what she would do in that case.

She came to land at a garden within the moat outside
the Good Magician's castle. They climbed out of the boat.
The moment they did, the boat wended its own way back
across, stranding them. It was now too late to change her
mind.

She gazed at the garden. It was lovely, and loathsome.
The left side was overgrown with foul-looking and -smell-
ing weeds and had statuary that was downright disgusting.
The right side had a multitude of pretty flowers, with at-
tractive scents. Naturally that was the side she wanted to
step into.

But the path led into the foul side, so that was where
she went. It would have been impossible to go into the
nice side without treading on flowers and ripping out beau-
tiful vines, and she couldn't bear to do that. But the path
was overgrown with burrs, thoms, nettles, stinging vines,
scratchpads, and even a stink hom she just missed stepping
on. That would have wiped out all her appeal in one swell

52   PIERS ANTHONY

foop, for nothing and nobody could stand the sound or
stench of stink horn.

The farther she went, the worse it got, until it was plain
that she could not get through this way. This was one mean
garden half. And obviously a challenge.

She backed out and rejoined Nimby, who was inno-
cently waiting. Her nice dress was smirched with refuse-
colored yuck, and her arms and ankles were scratched.
What an awful section!

She considered the nice side again. If only the path were
there! But it wasn't, and though the garden was beautiful,
it was just as thickly woven as the ugly side was. Not only
would she do a horrible amount of damage- if she tried to
forge through there, she probably wouldn't make it to the
far side anyway.

There had to be a way through. But where was it, if not
the path? Chlorine looked back and forth between the two
garden halves, sure that she was missing something.

Now that she took the time to wake up and smell the
flowers, as it were, she saw that the path was lined with
purslane, which made sense for a lane, and trailing arbutus,
which made sense for a trail. There were also primroses,
making it a primrose path, and at the very beginning, a
trail blazer jacket. So no one could be confused about
where the path was.

A dim bulb flashed. That trail blazer—suppose she
moved that to the other side? Would it then blaze a new
path there, where she wanted it? That might be the answer.

She reached for the jacket, but it was just out of reach.
She stretched her arm out—and got scratched again. Ap-
parently that piece of apparel wasn't supposed to be taken.
So much for blazing a new trail.

So she couldn't move the path. What else was there?
Move the gardens?

A dim bulb appeared over her head, but didn't flash. It
simply hung there expectantly. She hadn't quite gotten her
bright notion yet.

Was there a way to change the positions of the gardens,

YON ILL WIND   53

so that the same path led through the nice part? Now she
thought there could be. It was exactly the kind of inverted
thinking that the Good Magician was noted for.

Chlorine reconsidered the gardens and the path. Now
she saw that the path wound past a nasty-looking well. She
made her way to it, stepping carefully to avoid the nettles
and thorns, and peered in. Smoky fumes smudged her face
and jammed up her nose. Phew! That wasn't water in
there, that was firewater. Not exactly poisonous; she knew
poisoned water when she encountered it, that being her
talent. But not exactly healthy, either. Mean spirits. This
was one mean well.

Across the path from it was a dingy thyme plant. She
turned to consider it. Thyme was tricky stuff, she knew; it
could speed things up or slow them down, or even just
change the time of day. Normally she stayed well clear of
it. But could there be a reason it was growing here, so
close to the path and the well? Her bulb brightened
slightly.

Mean well, mean thyme. In the mean section of the gar-
den. It figured. But there were other meanings of mean.
Such as when a person meant well. Then the intention was
good, even if the result wasn't. Could this be that kind of
well? And the thyme plant—it affected time, and some-
times time was sort of average, and they might call that
mean time. It wasn't necessarily nasty, merely rounded off.
Suppose some of that well-meaning water were poured by
the thyme plant—would that round off the time in a good
way? Her bulb brightened. It well might!

She took the grubby bucket and dipped some of the
smoking water out. Of course, it looked awful, because its
true nature wasn't supposed to be obvious. But if she was
right—

She poured the water at the base of the thyme plant. It
turned greener and healthier almost immediately. Then
night fell.

What? Chlorine looked around, startled. It hadn't been
close to nighttime! Oh—the thyme plant, feeling its oats,

54   PIERS ANTHONY

as it were, had accelerated time, bringing the garden rap-
idly to night. Maybe she should have anticipated that.

But what good did it do her? It wouldn't be any easier
to forge through this tangle by night than by day. Unless—

Now her dim bulb flashed sO brightly that the entire
garden lit up. Sure enough: this was now the kinder section
of the garden. It was a kinder/meaner garden, and one sec-
tion was as different from the other as day from night. So
it was night, and suddenly this half was the nice one—
with the path wending pleasantly through it. She had found
the way at last.

"Come, Nimby," she said, as if this were routine. "We
shall pay a call on the Good Magician." And she marched
down the path, her way lit by pretty glowworms set along
the edges.

The path led right to the castle entrance. Chlorine
knocked on the door, and it opened immediately. A pretty
young woman stood there. "Welcome to the Good Ma-
gician's Castle, Chlorine and Nimby," she said. "I am
Wira, his daughter-in-law. Please come this way."

So she had, indeed, been expected. She was glad she
had played it straight, and found her own way through the
challenges.

They followed her inside. The interior was surprisingly
light, because rays shone in through the high windows.
Chlorine realized that it wasn't really night; that had just
been a local effect in the garden, which passed when they
left the vicinity of the thyme plant.

"How did you know our names?" Chlorine inquired.
"If my memory is correct, you—can't even see us."

"It is true I am blind," Wira said. "But I know this
castle well, and can't get lost. And I overheard Magician
Humfrey grumbling about the situation. It seems he had
no trouble identifying you. Chlorine, but your friend
Nimby baffled him. He had to look him up in the Big Book
of Answers, sure that there was no such person. But the
Book had an entry the Magician must have forgotten, and
it said Nimby was a dragon ass with the magic talent of

YON ILL WIND   55

enabling himself and his companion to be whatever the
companion wished them to be. That his full name was Not
In My Back Yard, because most people didn't like him.
The Magician shook his head, not wanting to admit that
he had been ignorant of such a creature. I fear he is be-
ginning to feel his age."

Chlorine smiled. "The Book of Answers spoke truly.
Nimby is not the man he appears to be, but he is much
nicer than he looks in his natural form. He is welcome in
my back yard, for I have come to know him by his actions,
not his appearance. His only liability is that he can't speak.
He is enabling me to have a really nice time, for now."

"For now?"

"I know it has to end all too soon, and I will return to
my wretched home life. But I will always have this won-
derful adventure to remember, my single shining moment,
thanks to Nimby. I intend to make the most of it."

' 'I fear the Good Magician means to make more of it
than you expect."

"Oh, no, my year's Service is part of it," Chlorine said
cheerfully. "I am resigned to that. It will extend my ad-
venture."

Wira brought them to a rather dull-looking woman in a
sewing room who was mending a pile of socks. "Mother
Sofia, here are our visitors," Wira said.

Sofia looked up. "Are you sure you want to broach
Himself with your Question? He will require you to per-
form a most arduous Service in return."

"Yes, of course," Chlorine agreed. "I look forward to
it. The more adventurous the better."

"As you wish. Wira will take you to him now."

The blind young woman led them up a dark winding
stone stairway to a squeezed crowded chamber. There in
the shadows sat the Good Magician Humfrey Himself. He
looked grumpily up from his monstrous tome. "Yes?"

"Where is my last tear?" Chlorine asked.

"It is in your eyes, spread across them to keep them
moist. Half of it keeps your right eye well, and the other

56   PIERS ANTHONY

half keeps your left eye well. Without that final tear, you
would immediately go blind."

Chlorine was amazed. "I never thought of that! Of
course, it must be true."

"It is true," Humfrey said grumpily. "Now report to
the cat-a-pult for your Service."

But Chlorine, being nice but not too nice, balked. "I
know I have to serve a year's Service, but for that little
bit of obvious-in-retrospect information? That doesn't
seem fair."

"Please, don't argue," Wira said worriedly. "That only
makes him grumpier."

"Nevertheless, I will answer," Humfrey said, more
grumpily. "You knew the conditions before you came to
me, so if you wasted the chance to ask a significant Ques-
tion and receive a significant Answer, the fault is yours."

"Urn, that's right," Chlorine said. "I did know the
terms. I apologize for my intemperate remark."

Humfrey looked up from his tome again and glanced at
her. His eyeballs were yellowed and streaked with purple
veins, but as they focused on her they brightened and the
dingy colors faded out. "My, you are a pretty one," he
said, surprised. "A sight for sore eyes."

"Thanks to Nimby," she agreed, nevertheless pleased
to have made a good impression to erase some of the bad
impression she had made before. "In real life I'm plain
and mean-spirited."

"Yes, of course. Since you have done me the slight
favor of resting my eyes, I will return it by amending my
answer: it is not quite as insignificant as it might seem.
You do have the capacity to shed that final tear, if you
ever choose to. But considering the consequence, I suggest
that you never allow yourself to become that unhappy."

"You may be sure of that!" she agreed, laughing.

"Actually, I am not sure of that, which is why I have
cautioned you. There may come a time. Do not react
thoughtlessly."

Nimby, standing beside her, seemed uneasy.

YON ILL WIND   57

Chlorine nodded. "Thank you for that amendment,
Good Magician. I will remember it." Then she smiled.
This time the gloomy study brightened, and Humfrey
seemed to lose five years in age.

"Oh, I wish I could see that!" Wira murmured, aware
that something good had happened. Maybe she had felt the
heat of the light that had brightened the study.

"You shall," Humfrey said, almost with the illusion of
fleeting mellowness. "Imbri?"

Then Chlorine saw a replay of the incident, as if she
were another person watching herself, Wira, Nimby, and
the Good Magician in the study. She smiled, and the study
lighted, and Humfrey youthened from about a hundred to
about ninety-five.

"Oh, thank you. Day Mare Imbri!" Wira exclaimed. "I
saw it!"

Chlorine was amazed. The Good Magician had actually
summoned a night mare, or rather a day mare, to give them
all a day dream, so that the blind girl could see the event
in the only way she could: as a dream. This was surely
something very special. And he must like his daughter-in-
law a lot, because it was clearly for her he had done it.

But now the study faded to its natural dinginess, and
the Good Magician's slightly less tired eyes reverted to his
monstrous dull tome. The interview was over.

Chlorine turned and followed Wira out, and down the
steps. The girl was smiling with the memory. Something
briefly nice had certainly happened.

4
TROLLWAY

Jim Baldwin looked around, bemused. This land looked
a lot like Florida, at a casual glance, but any more
careful look rapidly dispelled the similarity. It wasn't
just a matter of the presence of the fantastic female crea-
ture, Sheila Centaur. Her phenomenal bare bosom was
something he could appreciate regardless of the circum-
stance, though, of course, he would not admit that in the
presence of his family. Mary was a reasonably liberal
woman, socially, but it was plain that she was not at all
easy about the filly centaur, for reasons that went beyond
the fantasy element. Correction: they surely related to her
concern about the male fantasy element. Especially that of
Sean and David. And Jim himself, perhaps. With reason.

They were waiting on the beach beside what resembled
nothing so much as a giant pillow. This was where the
guide was supposed to arrive. The guide that the Good
Magician was sending. After what else he had seen in this
weird land, Jim was prepared to accept the notion of good
and bad magicians. He hoped the guide was competent.
He hoped to get out of this situation soon; he didn't like
the way the wind was building up, however intriguingly it
played with Sheila's hair. The storm seemed to have been
subsiding, but now it was building again. That was bad
news, regardless, whether in Florida or this land they
called Xanth.

The children were in animated dialogue with the centaur
filly, purportedly eager to leam more about Xanth. Jim
caught Mary's eye, and she joined him. "I don't want to

YON ILL WIND   59

be an alarmist, but have you noticed the wind?" he asked
her quietly.

She brushed her hair out of her face. "Yes." Her tone
was grim.

"So maybe the distraction of the centaur is just as well,
until we are able to get moving again."

Her answering smile was genuine but somewhat
strained. "Thank you for clarifying that, Jim."

Then something came flying through the air from the
north. They all half ducked, not sure where it was going
to land. It appeared to be a big rag doll, one of the modem
type, with excellent legs.

It landed plump! in the middle of the giant cushion. It
bounced, and got its skirt smoothed down. It was a lovely
young woman, seemingly no worse for the experience. The
boys immediately discovered a new creature to gawk at.

"Hello, folks," she. said brightly, brushing back her
golden-green-tinted tresses. "I am Chlorine, your guide,
sent by the Good Magician Humfrey. In a moment my
companion will be along; then we must talk."

Before they could do more than get their collective
mouths closed, another rag-doll figure came flying across
and down. It, too, bounced, but had no skirt to get in order.
It wore slacks, and was a handsome young man.

"This is Nimby," Chlorine said. "He is mute, but nice.
He will help me to help you. But first I must warn you
that a bad storm is coming."

"We had noticed," Jim said, stepping forward. "Hello.
I am Jim Baldwin, and this is my wife, Mary, and our
children, Sean, David, and Karen. We're from—I believe
you call it Mundania."

"We do," Chlorine agreed with a smile. She glanced at
Sheila. "Thank you for guiding the lost folk this far; I'm
sure you are eager to return to Centaur Isle."

',Yes I am, before the wind further intensifies," the cen-
taur agreed. She turned to the family. "I wish you the very
best. It has been pleasant meeting with you. And if you

60   PIERS ANTHONY

should encounter Carieton's sister Chena, do give her his
good wishes too."

"We shall certainly do that," Jim agreed. "Thank you—
and Carleton—for your kindness in helping us this far."

"Welcome." She'turned tail and cantered back along
the beach. The boys watched her until she was out of sight;

then their eyes reverted to Chlorine, who was far more
decorously dressed, but so beautiful in every respect that
she was fully as distracting as the bare centaur filly.

Chlorine turned back to Jim. "I don't want to be im-
polite, but what I have to say is of some urgency. There
is danger for you here. The Good Magician's wife, Sofia,
was most specific about that. She's Mundane herself, so
appreciates how difficult Xanth must be for you. I under-
stand you have a moving house."

The children laughed. "Motor home," Mary said. "But
yes, it is a moving house."

"Could you get it moving? There is very little time to
escape before the storm intensifies. It is my service to
guide you safely where you wish to go, but it won't be
safe here very much longer."

"We can drive it," Jim said. "And there is room for
you and Nimby." He wondered at the name, but this didn't
seem to be the time to inquire about that. "But we are
going to need gas soon, or we'll stall."

"Gas?" the woman asked blankly.

"Gasoline. Petrol. Fuel. It—our vehicle eats it. Drinks
it."

"Oh." Chlorine turned to her companion. "Nimby, do
you know where there is—gas—for this creature?" Nimby
nodded. "Then show us, because we mustn't delay long."

"Come on in," Jim said. "If Nimby knows where it is,
he can sit up front with me and point the way."

So they got into the van, with the silent young man
taking the passenger seat in front. Chlorine joined the fam-
ily in back, which Jim knew thrilled the boys. Ordinarily
he would not pick up hitchhikers, but when in Rome—or
Xanth—it was time to do as the natives did. Chlorine was

YON ILL WIND   61 '

certainly right about the dangerous storm; apparently Hur-
ricane Gladys was reintensifying, or turning back, to catch
them again. The last thing be wanted was to get caught in
a hurricane, in the RV.

He started the motor. There was an exclamation of sur-
prise from Chlorine, but the odd Nimby took it calmly in
stride. He pointed to the trollway, which was exactly where
Jim wanted to go. It looked like a good solid highway
where he could make excellent time, storm and gas per-
mitting.

At the entrance to the trollway stood a horrendous crea-
ture. "Don't tell me; let me guess," Jim muttered. "A
troll."

Nimby smiled. Evidently he understood speech well
enough; he just couldn't speak himself. Curious fellow, but
seemingly amicable.

He drew the RV to a stop before the troll. Sure enough,
there was a sign: STOP: PAY TROLL. But there wasn't any
indication what the fee was.

Well, he would start small. "Here's two cents," he said,
offering two pennies to the troll. And the creature smiled—
a horrendous effect—took the pennies, and waved him on.

Maybe it was the thought that counted. Jim pulled the
vehicle onto the pavement and gathered speed. He was
almost beginning to feel. at home here!

Now a sign said HIGHWAY AHEAD. And of course, the
road rose up until it was at treetop level: a literal high way.
Things tended to be extremely literal here. Unfortunately
this elevation exposed them to the higher winds of the
heights. "Are we going to be up here long?" he asked
Nimby.

The man shook his head, but gave no other information.
Certainly he was a strange one.

Jim listened to the dialogue of the others. The children
were eagerly questioning the girl Chlorine—odd name!—
and she was answering to the best of her ability. It was
interesting.

"Yes, candy really does grow-in Xanth, and cookies of

62   PIERS ANTHONY

all kinds along the With-a-Cookee River," Chlorine said.
"Doesn't food grow on trees in Mundania?"

"Oh, sure, in a way," David agreed. "Fruits grow on
trees, and vegetables grow in gardens, and grain grows in
fields. But candy and cookies have to be made. And paid
for. That's what allowances are for."

"Allowances?"

"Do you have a concept of money in Xanth?" Mary
asked.

' 'Certainly. It is filthy green stuff that no clean person
cares to touch."

The others laughed, "That's the stuff we have," Sean
said.

A heavy gust of wind buffeted the RV. "Oh, that re-
minds me," Chlorine said. "I must tell you of the great
danger you face. The Good Magician told me to be sure
to make you understand. You see, there has been a weak-
ening in the Interface—"

"Whose face?" Karen asked.

"The Xanth Interface. It keeps the Mundanes out. No
offense. Something went wrong, and. a Mundane storm
came through—and you folk too. The storm is headed for
the center of Xanth. That means it will sweep up a lot of
magic dust, and—"

"Magic dust?" Sean asked.

"That's the dust that wells up in the center of Xanth,
bringing the magic," she explained. "Without it, we
wouldn't have magic, and it would be horrible. But where
the dust is too thick, the magic is too strong, and so there
is madness. If Happy Bottom spreads that dust across
Xanth—"

"Gotcha," Sean said. "Everybody goes mad."

"Well, not exactly. But things could get very strange.
However, you don't need to worry about that. I'm sup-
posed to help you get through Xanth and out of danger
before the storm gets too bad. So we must hurry. There
won't be much time to stop and sleep."

r

YON ILL WIND   63

"No problem," Sean said. "We'll sleep in the RV while
Dad-drives."

Which meant no sleep for Dad, Jim reflected. Well, it
had happened before. He didn't like the way the wind was
building, and would far rather stay ahead of the worst of
it if he could, sleep no object.

Nimby pointed to the side. There was an exit ramp. Jim
steered the vehicle to it. The thing spiraled around and
around, corkscrewing down to the ground. He had had no
idea they had gotten so high! The treetops had vanished
without his noticing.

As they neared the ground. Nimby pointed again. There
beside the road was a big ugly purple tree, and under the
tree stood a big uglier purple monster with greenish gills.
It looked most uncomfortable. Jim hoped the discomfort
wasn't hunger, because the thing was big enough to gobble
down a man and a child. He hoped Nimby knew what he
was doing.

"Oh, there's a gas guzzler," Chlorine said, putting her
pretty head close to his so she could peer out. She smelled
faintly of delight.                          ^

A gas guzzler. It figured. "We can get gas from it?"

"Yes. Just make a deal."

A deal. He would have to feel his way through this one,
as he had with the troll.

He drew to a stop beside the monster and rolled down
the window, partway. "You have gas?"

The monster faced him. It belched. The putrid odor of
spoiling gasoline wafted by in a noxious little cloud.

"You guzzled too much gas?" Jim asked. The monster
nodded miserably. "Then maybe we can make a deal."
But at this point Jim's imagination failed him. What would
an overindulgent gas guzzler want to trade for?

"I think he needs one of Mom's ant-acid pills," David
said brightly.

"Then hand one over," Jim said.

Mary fished in her purse and came up with an ant-acid
pill. Jim offered it to the monster. "This ant-acid pill for

64   PIERS ANTHONY

one tank of gas," he said. Could this possibly work?

The guzzler took the pill and gulped it down. He
belched again, this time not quite so awfully. Then he
lifted his tail. Jim saw that the end of it looked somewhat
like the nozzle of a gas pump. "Right here," he said
quickly, turning off the motor, piling out of the vehicle,
and going to the gas tank. He removed the cap and pointed.

The guzzler put the tip of his tail into the aperture. There
was a liquid flow sound. The fumes smelled like gasoline.

When the tank was full, the creature removed his tail
and Jim put the cap back on. "Thank you," he said.

The monster nodded. His gills were no longer green.
Evidently the pill had alleviated his condition. So it was a
fair bargain.

Jim climbed back in and started the motor. Then he had
another thought. "We have taken the high road," he said
to Nimby. "But it's pretty windy up there. Is there a low
road?"

Nimby pointed ahead. Sure enough, there was a road
following the ground. Jim went for it. "Thanks."

For a time the road seemed routine. Jim had a dark
suspicion that it wouldn't last, but he enjoyed it while it
did. The motor was running well; the gasoline seemed to
be good. Which was a considerable relief. So again he
listened to the dialogue behind.

"How did you get here?" Karen asked Chlorine. "I
mean, you just came flying through the air, like a para-
chute."

"With your skirt flying," Sean added appreciatively.

"Oh, no!" Chlorine exclaimed, sounding appalled.
"Did my panties show?"

"No," Jim called back, realizing by her reaction that
this was a social nuance of some consequence. Just as the
centaurs were evidently quite open about their apparel, or
lack of it, others might be quite uptight. The children might
not realize, and make a social blunder. "Just your legs."
And what legs they were!

"Oh, that's a relief!" she said. "I would fade away

YON ILL WIND

from mortification if—but never mind. The Good Magi-
cian had us use the cat-a-pult."

"Now, why do I think that's not what we mean by the
term catapult?" Sean asked musingly.

"I confess to being curious," Chlorine said. "Why do
you think that?"

There was half a pause. She had, innocently enough, set
the brash teenager back. "I, uh, mean that everything else
is different. With us a catapult is a big engine that hurls
things far away."

"Yes, that's it. It's a giant cat whose tail springs up and
hurls things where they need to go. The Good Magician
must have told the cat where to aim. I'm glad there was a
pillow to land on."

"This Good Magician," Mary said. "He must be quite
knowledgeable."

"Oh, yes! He knows everything. I came to him to ask
where my last tear was, and he told me, but then, of course,
I had to perform a year's Service, or the equivalent. So he
assigned me to guide you folk safely out of Xanth."

"You have certainly been a help," Mary said. "As was
Sheila Centaur. But did I hear you correctly? You have to
do a year's service, for the answer to a single question?"

"Oh, yes. I was foolish, wasting my Question on some-
thing I could have figured out for myself. But I really did
it for adventure, and I'm getting that. You folk—this trav-
eling house—this is fantastic."

David laughed. "You think the RV is fantastic? After
getting hurled through the air by a giant cat?"

"Of course. Lots of people use the cat-a-pult. But I
don't think there's ever been a wheeled house like this in
Xanth before. There aren'teven many houses with chicken
legs. I couldn't ask for a better adventure."

There was a full pause. She had set them back again.
So Jim filled in with a question of his own. "I do not wish
to be impolite, or to seek after anything private. But since
Nimby can't speak for himself, may I inquire about his
background and mission?"

66 PIERS ANTHONY

"Oh, there's no problem about that," Chlorine said
brightly. "Nimby's a donkey-headed dragon in man-form.
I could ask him to revert to his natural shape, to show you,
but he'd be too big for this little house."

"Then we had better take your word for it," Jim said
carefully. This young woman, like this strange land, kept
surprising him anew.

' 'He's doing me a really big favor," Chlorine continued.
"You see, in real life, I'm, well, plain. And not all that
smart or nice. But Nimby's talent is to make himself and
his companion whatever she wishes them to be. So natu-
rally I wished to be really pretty, smart, healthy, and nice."

"Yeah," Sean said appreciatively, doubtless glancing at
her legs or more. She was about as healthy a young woman
as Jim had seen, and strong on the other qualities.

"I think maybe you don't believe me," Chlorine said.
"But that much I can show you, because I'm the same
size in real life." She lifted her voice. "Nimby, show me
as I really am—for one moment."

The young man sitting beside Jim nodded. And there
was a gasp of surprise behind. Jim turned his head for a
quick look.

The lovely young woman had indeed changed. She was
now a plain-bordering-on-ugly girl, in unattractive cloth-
ing, with an irritable expression. Her hair was a listless,
stringy, unappealing shade of green.

Then the moment was over, and she was lovely again.
Her legs and bosom filled out, and her dank hair became
lustrous. She smiled, and the interior of the RV seemed to
brighten. "See? I owe Nimby a lot."

"You sure do," Sean breathed, as Jim turned back to
watch the road.

"But why is Nimby doing this for you?" Karen asked.
"I mean if he's really a dragon, wouldn't he rather eat
you?"

"Karen!" Mary said severely.

"Ah, come on. Mom," David said. "She does look
good enough to eat."

YON ILL WIND   67

Chlorine laughed. "Thank you. I was afraid of some-
thing like that, at first, because that's what dragons do. But
he turned out to be a nice dragon. A very nice dragon."

"Yeah," David agreed. "I wish I had one like him. I'd
have him make me a star football player or something."

"Actually, he did tell me why, when we first met." She
evidently held up a hand, as someone started to protest;

Jim had to keep his eyes on the road, so couldn't look.
"Yes, Nimby is mute now, but at first he could speak. He
told me that he needed my company, and would do any-
thing he could to make it worthwhile for me. But he
warned me that that was his only chance to speak, and he
has been mute since. But he understands me, and he can
answer me by gestures."

"But suppose he had something important and compli-
cated to tell you?" Sean asked, perhaps becoming in-
trigued by something other than her appearance. "Such as
some terrible danger you didn't know was coming, so you
didn't think to ask him a yes-or-no question about it?"

"Why, I don't know. Nimby, is there anything like
that?"

Nimby turned to face the rear, and nodded.

"Something important? That's too complicated for me
to just guess readily?"

Nimby nodded again.

Now Chlorine seemed out of sorts. ' 'But how can I ask
you, if I don't know what to ask?" she asked plaintively.

"Maybe he can write it," David said.

"But I can't read," Chlorine said. "More than big ob-
vious signs and short words, I mean. The signs have spells
to make them legible to anyone, even animals. I can't read
anything significant on my own. I flunked Centaur
School."

So she was functionally illiterate, Jim realized.

Sean laughed. "So have him make you able to read."

There was a flash of light, followed by a gasp of awe.
"A lightbulb just appeared over your head!" Karen cried.
"It glowed!"

68   PIERS ANTHONY

"Yes, of course," Chlorine agreed. "I realized Sean
was right. That's a brilliant idea. Nimby, make me literate,
so I can read what you write, no matter how complicated
it is. And write me what I need to know."

Immediately the young man brought out a pad and sty-
lus and began writing. Jim nodded; there were definite ad-
vantages to magic. In Mundania there were no such
shortcuts.

"That reminds me of something else," Jim said. "This
is obviously not our homeland. The rules are mostly dif-
ferent. How is it that you and the centaurs speak exactly
our own language?"

"Oh, that's part of the magic of Xanth," Chlorine said.
"Everyone speaks the same language here. All people, I
mean. Animals speak their own languages, which are dif-
ferent from ours, so we usually can't understand them. But
often they can understand us."

"We have animals," Sean said. "But they don't
speak."

"Oh, they surely do speak, at least here in Xanth. You
just need someone like Grundy Golem to translate what
they say."

"Who?"

"He's an obnoxious little creature who speaks all lan-
guages."

Meanwhile Nimby had completed his writing. Soon he
passed the note back.

Chlorine took it and looked at the fine script. "I can
read it!" she exclaimed. "I really can! I'm literate! I'm
utterly thrilled!"

"What does it say?" David asked.

"Oh. Yes." She focused, and read the note aloud.
" 'There are goblins along Lizard Lane who have set a
trap for unwary travelers. It is an illusion barricade and
detour that will lead folk into a trap, so the goblins can
swarm in and capture them for stew.' "

"Does that mean what I think it does?" Mary asked,
horrified.

YON ILL WIND   69

"Yes, if you think it means that goblins boil people
alive," Chlorine said. "Goblins are mean creatures." She
returned to her reading. " 'Because I must protect you
from harm, and you will come to harm if the Mundanes
fall into this trap, I must tell you how to avoid it. Do not
honor the illusion; drive right through it without slowing.
The goblins will not be able to attack this vehicle at
speed.' "

"Why couldn't they just throw some logs on the road?"
Sean asked.

"Because this is an enchanted path," Chlorine ex-
plained. "The trolls guarantee that there are no dangers
along it. Otherwise no one would use it. As it is, there is
very little traffic, because the trollway is new and many
folk are wary of trolls. Also, the trolls used to build only
bridges. But they do know how to make good roads. So
the goblins can't put up any real barricades. But if they
trick us into leaving the protected path, then they can get
us." She lifted her voice again. "Oh, thank you for warn-
ing us. Nimby!" she said. "I'm sorry I never thought to
ask. After this, write me a note any time I need to know
something."

The young man nodded. That was an interesting situa-
tion, Jim reflected, where Nimby seemed to know every-
thing, but couldn't volunteer information; he had to be
asked or instructed' to.

Meanwhile, this was indeed a good route. "So this is
Lizard Lane," Jim said. "What does that remind me of?"

"Alligator Alley," Sean said.

Jim nodded. "A parody of the world we know. So if I
see a barricade and detour, I'm to ignore it, because it's
illusion."

Nimby, beside him, nodded.

Jim shut up, but privately he doubted that they would
encounter any such illusion.

The scenery was becoming more interesting or alarming,
depending on one's view. Florida in the Everglades region
was flat, but it was evident that Xanth had mountains; al-

70   PIERS ANTHONY

ready Lizard Lane was wriggling between them like its
namesake. There even seemed to be a volcano in the dis-
tance, In fact, the road seemed to be headed in that direc-
tion. Jim hoped it didn't erupt while they were in its
vicinity.

There was also a bank of clouds looming to the north-
east. That would be the vanguard of Happy Bottom, as
they called Gladys here. Could there be anything to the
conjecture about it sweeping up magic dust and becoming
a dangerous magical storm? After what he had already
seen, he was not prepared to deny it. So they were doing
exactly what they needed to: driving full speed away from
it, or at least around it.

Suddenly a barricade loomed up. How had he over-
looked it before? The thing was huge, and extended right
across the road. There was a big sign with an arrow point-
ing right: ROAD CLOSED—DETOUR. The detour road was
clear, winding away toward a rest station. He barely had
time to make it.

Jim trod on the brakes. The tires squealed as he swerved.
"No!" Chlorine cried. "It's illusion! Go through it!"
Jim had virtually no time to make his decision. She had
warned him about this. A mistake could be fatal. He might
regret this in an instant, but he trusted her. He straightened
the wheel and stepped on the gas, heading for the collision.
He barely missed the exit lane. He winced as the barrier
loomed high and thick and devastating. They were going
to crash!

Then they were through it, without contact. The road
continued ahead, uninterrupted. Jim's pulse started its long
trek back down toward the vicinity of normal. Chlorine—
and Nimby—had been right.

"Gee," David said, awed. "Just like killer video."
That about covered it. Jim glanced at Nimby, who
shrugged. Obviously his information had been good. He
had been right about the illusion barrier, so probably was
also right about the goblins.

In fact, there they were now: a horde of small, lumpy

YON ILL WIND   71

manlike figures just off the right of way, shaking their little
fists. Some carried clubs, and some spears. Obviously they
had intended no good. That had been one close escape—
thanks to the timely warning.

"Nimby, if I may ask—how did you know about this
ambush?" Jim asked. He wasn't sure the man would an-
swer him, but Chlorine must have nodded, because Nimby
began to write again. Soon he passed Jim a note.

Jim held it up by the steering wheel and read it. / have
knowledge of events around me that may affect the welfare
of my companion. But I may not act on them myself; I can
act only at her behest. The goblins were setting up the
illusion barricade.

Evidently so. And if Chlorine hadn't thought to ask,
they would have fallen into the trap. What would Nimby
have done then? Maybe he would have reverted to his
dragon form and carried her away to safety—if Chlorine
asked him. But the rest of them would probably have been
out of luck.

Chlorine must have had a similar chain of thought.
"Nimby-—I have undertaken to guide these folk safely out
of Xanth. If anything happens to them, I will have failed.
I wouldn't like that at all. So please warn me if anything
threatens them, as well as me. I mean, if it threatens them
without threatening me, warn me, because that's part of
me too—the decent part. If they are hurt, I will hurt too."

Nimby nodded.

"Thank you," Jim said.

Now they were approaching the volcano. Smoke was
issuing from its aperture. "Is that thing active?" Jim
asked.

"Yes, that's Mount Pinatuba," Chlorine said, peering
ahead. "The last time it got angry, it blew out so much
dust that it cooled all Xanth by a degree. But it doesn't
blow its top if you don't insult it."

"Volcanoes care?" Sean asked. "How can they, when
they aren't alive?"

"Don't speak loudly," Chlorine cautioned him. "It
might hear you."

72   PIERS ANTHONY

Indeed, that seemed to be the case, because the mountain
shuddered and blew out a plume of gas.

"Oh, I didn't mean to disparage it," Sean saidquickly.
"I think it's a pretty impressive volcano."

The mountain subsided, and the plume drifted away in
the wind.

"Everything cares," Chlorine said. "The inanimate can
be very sensitive to slights. King Dor can talk to it, and it
answers him. Most things aren't too smart, but they do
have opinions. So we have to be careful not to insult them,
unless we have reason."

"I guess so," he agreed, clearly impressed.

"Mom, can I use the privy?" -Karen asked.

"It's full," Mary replied. "We need to stop where we
can empty it."

She was right. The storm had confined them pretty much
to the RV, and they hadn't been able to attend to certain
details. "Chlorine, is there a rest stop along this road,
nearby? One that isn't goblin-infested?"

Chlorine consulted with Nimby, who nodded. Soon he
pointed to the side, and Jim swung onto an exit road. Sure
enough, it led to a pleasant glade with a house in the cen-
ter. He pulled up beside the house, and paused. "This is
safe?" he asked Nimby.

The young man hesitated, then nodded. .

The others opened the side door and piled out. But Jim
delayed. He hadn't liked that hesitation. "Is there some-
thing you're not telling us, Nimby?"

Chlorine had gotten out with the others, so they were
now alone in the vehicle. Nimby hesitated again, then be-
gan to write a note.

Jim waited, and in due course read the note: Danger is
looming close. Your family will learn it at this site, and be
alarmed. This will make your journey more difficult.

"What danger?"

The storm is stirring up bad creatures. They will
frighten your children.

YON ILL WIND   73

"But we will escape unharmed—if we follow your ad-
vice?"

Nimby nodded yes.

"Thank you." Jim hesitated, then spoke again. "I wish
I could know more about you. Nimby, but I hesitate to
inquire. Maybe some other time." Then he, too, got out
of the vehicle.

The region was very nice. Karen had found a tree, and
was picking a pie from it.

Jim stopped, doing a double take. A pie tree? Yes, so it
seemed to be. So it really was true: pies grew on trees,
here in the magic land of Xanth.

He went to the facilities, which were somewhat primi-
tive but usable; what more was to be expected of trolls?
The wind whistled through the cracks; there was no doubt
the storm remained near.

Then he thought of the pets, and returned to the RV to
see to them. He found Nimby communing with them;

though they were normally somewhat shy with strangers,
they seemed completely at ease with the odd young man.

As Jim approached. Nimby turned to face him. He wrote
another note: These creatures should not be caged. You
must let them go.

"We, do, at home," Jim said. "But we can't risk it in
a strange place. Woofer would range the neighborhood,
getting his nose into everything; Midrange would be chas-
ing wild birds up trees; and Tweeter would fly into a bush
and get hopelessly lost. We have been the route."

Nimby wrote another note. They will not do any of these
things. The magic is enhancing them; they understand that
you mean well by them, and they will neither misbehave
nor flee you.

"How can you know this®" Jim asked skeptically.
"This isn't a physical barricade, it's the nature of ani-
mals."

Another note. / know thoughts too. It is part of my tal-
ent. I must know what is, so I can enable Chlorine safely
to be what she wishes to be.

74   PIERS ANTHONY

That seemed to be true. "Look, Nimby, I don't want to
get in trouble with my children. I'll ask them, and if they
agree to let the pets go, we'll do it."

The children were already approaching, eating pies they
had picked. Karen's hair was blowing across her face and
into her pie, but she didn't seem to mind. Jim explained
the situation.

"Try Woofer first," Sean suggested. "If he behaves, try
Midrange."

So they freed the big dog. Woofer bounded out of the
RV, went to a nearby tree, watered it, sniffed the air, and
returned to the group, tail wagging. He was remarkably
well behaved.

"You're not going to chase all over the region?" Jim
asked the dog, surprised.

"Woof!" It was a plain negation.

David went to his pet. "Okay, Midrange. Your turn."
He freed the cat.

Midrange went to a sandy spot and did his business.
Then he, too, sniffed the air, and returned to the group.

So Karen freed Tweeter. The parakeet flew up to the
nearest branch of a tree, dropped a dropping, and flew back
to Karen's shoulder. The increasing wind made the bird's
flight somewhat erratic, but he adjusted rapidly.

Jim shook his head, bemused. "Very well, pets. You
have five minutes to do whatever you want to. Then return
here, because we'll be on our way again."

Now the three creatures scattered. Woofer zoomed
through the bushes, avidly exploring. Tweeter circled into
the sky and disappeared. Midrange climbed a nut and bolt
tree and was soon lost in the foliage. The three children
followed them, as well as they were able.

"That's more like normal," Jim said. But he was im-
pressed by the way the animals had waited for his word
before acting on their impulses. If they actually returned
on the schedule he had set, he would know that Nimby's
judgment in such respects could be trusted.

Mary emerged, carrying a basket of comestibles. The

YON ILL WIND   75

wind did its best to blow her dress around, but she re-
mained in control. She stacked the bag in the RV, then
looked around. "Where are the pets?"

"Nimby said they would behave if we let them go, so
we did."

She turned a quizzical glance on him, but did not com-
ment.

Tweeter reappeared. He landed on Nimby's shoulder,
tweeting at a great rate. Nimby wrote another note and
gave it to Jim. The storm has stirred up enormous birds
who may be hostile. They are coming this way.

Jim shrugged. "How big can a bird get?"

A huge shadow crossed the glade. They looked up to
spot its source. It looked like an airplane, but it was silent.
A big glider perhaps.

Then it screeched. It was a bird—as big as an airliner.
Such a creature could probably pick up the whole RV in
its talons, if it tried.

"Jim—" Mary said urgently.

"Right." He raised his voice. "Kids! Pets! Time's up!"

The summoned ones forged in from all directions. Chlo-
rine, too reappeared, looking devastatingly lovely in her
windblown state. But the boys for once weren't looking at
her. "Get a load of that big bird!" David cried, pausing
to stare.

"Get in," Mary said tightly.

They piled in. So did Jim, after checking to make sure
all was in order. Nimby had told him that bad creatures
would frighten the children; instead it seemed to be Mary
who was frightened, perhaps with good reason.

He started the motor and moved onto the access road.
There was no troll booth here, fortunately. They were able
to proceed without delay.

The children peered out the windows at the monstrous
bird. "That's a roc," Sean said, awed. "Fantasy's biggest
bird. I never thought I'd see one."

Tweeter chirped. Jim glanced at Nimby, who wrote a
note. He says that isn't all.

76   PIERS ANTHONY

"What's that?" Karen cried.

"A dragon," Sean said. He wasn't joking; his tone was
serious.

Now a huge and grotesque shape loomed in the sky
before the vehicle. It was, indeed, a dragon. Karen
screamed.                          ;

Jim looked at Nimby. "This road is protected?"

Nimby hesitated, and nodded.

"But there's a 'but,' " Jim said. "Let's have the qual-
ifier."

The note came. The winged monsters can not attack
anything on the enchanted path directly. But they can pre-
tend to. Do not be swayed.

"And children can be frightened," Jim said. Nimby
nodded.

"Yuck!" David cried. Karen screamed again. And this
time Mary made a stifled exclamation of alarm.

Jim looked from one window to the next, all around,
craning his neck, but didn't see anything. "This is an en-
chanted road," he reminded them. "Nothing can hurt us
while we're on it."

"Physically," Mary responded tightly.

"What did you see?"

"It was a harpy," Chlorine said. "They are very ugly
and nasty."

"A human-headed bird?" Jim asked. "What's so bad
.about one more fantastic—"

Then a filthy thing appeared before the windshield. It
looked like a thoroughly soiled vulture, with the head and
breasts of an old woman. "Ghaaa!" the dirty bird
screeched before veering up over the vehicle. Her legs had
glistening discolored talons. Jim, fearing a collision, and
revolted by the sight, almost veered onto the shoulder of
the road. Now he understood what had been bothering the
others.

"Can this house move faster?" Chlorine asked.

"Yes. But with these crosswinds I haven't wanted to
push it."

YON ILL WIND   77

"I think you had better," the woman said, concerned.
"The harpies may not be able to touch us directly, but if
they think to lay any eggs on us—''

"Messy," Sean remarked.

"Not exactly. Their eggs explode. They might do dam-
age."

Explosive eggs? Jim decided to accelerate, regardless of
the wind.

There was an angry screech outside, as the harpies re-
alized that their target was escaping. "They're coming af-
ter us, Dad!" David exclaimed. "And the dragons too."

Jim goosed the gas. As if to join in the fray, the wind
increased, becoming more gusty. The vehicle swerved
slightly, as Jim fought to keep it steady. He didn't like this
kind of driving. Neither did the others; the kids were now
uncomfortably silent.

But now they slowly forged ahead of the winged mon-
sters. Jim was even able to ease up on the gas a bit. He
appreciated Nimby's warning about the children being
frightened. If they hadn't paused at the rest stop, they
might have stayed safely ahead of the dirty birds. But that
stop had been necessary. All the Same, he hoped not to
stop again if he could avoid it.

Nimby wrote another note. Jim took it and propped it
before him so he could read it without taking his eyes off
the road. Soon you will come to the Gap Chasm, where
you will have to stop for the ferry. It is protected, but
perhaps not comfortable for you.

"What's this gap chasm?" Jim asked between his
clenched teeth.

"Oh, that's a big chasm that crosses Xanth," Chlorine
answered. "It once had a forget spell on it, so no one ever
remembered it was there, but that started disintegrating
during the Time of No Magic, and now most folk do re-
member it. It's said to be very impressive."

"You haven't seen it?" Jim asked. He was learning not
to take the features of Xanth terrain lightly.

"Not exactly," she said. "I never traveled far from my

78   PIERS ANTHONY

home village. Until this adventure, which is proving to be
a great one. I did cross it, but by night; I really didn't get
a good look into it. But of course, I had heard about the
Gap Chasm. There's a big green dragon in the bottom who
steams and eats any creatures it catches there."

"Nimby says we'll take the ferry."

"Then maybe we won't have to get past the Gap
Dragon," Chlorine said, relieved. "I don't know about the
ferry, but if Nimby says it, it must be so."

But not comfortable for them, Jim remembered. He had
better prepare the children. "Kids, we may have another
difficult passage ahead. So brace yourselves." There was
a moderate groan from behind. Obviously this magic land
was losing some of its appeal.

Nimby pointed ahead. Jim didn't see anything, but
wasn't about to ignore the signal. He slowed the RV. It
was just as well, for in a moment he saw that the road
ended abruptly at the brink of an awesome cleft in the
ground. It seemed impossibly wide and deep. The last
thing he would have wanted to do was zoom at speed off
the lip into the depths.

5
IMP ERIAL

Mary watched the dreadful chasm approach. As-
pects of this strange realm had first been unbe-
lievable, then disturbing; now they were
becoming downright alarming. But she didn't want to ex-
press her burgeoning concern, lest it upset the children.
They had already been frightened enough by the terrible

YON ILL WIND   79

flying creatures. Oh, how she hoped it didn't get any
worse!

There was a small house at the brink. Another troll stood
there. Jim fished in his pocket .for more change. "We're
taking the ferry," he told the troll, as if this were routine.
She had to give him due credit: he had excellent poise in
this most trying situation. And it was working; the creature
accepted the coins and nodded.

But there was no boat, just the yawning deeps of the
chasm. "Is it safe to get out here?" he asked Nimby. The
odd man nodded. Mary knew that Nimby's help was in-
valuable, but she was privately afraid of him; there was
something so utterly different about him as to be unclas-
sifiable. She far preferred Chlorine, who, though not in her
ordinary form, which was downright plain, was at least
completely human.

But perhaps Jim and the children had some caution, for
they elected to remain inside the RV, just in case the mon-
sters should return. They watched as a cloud detached it-
self from a cloud bank above the chasm and drifted in their
direction. It seemed to have a kind of foggy keel below.

Oh, no! Could this actually be their ferry? Mary kept
her dark suspicion to herself, hoping it wasn't true.

But it was true. The cloud came to dock at the brink of
the cliff, so that the road now led onto it. It looked solid—
but how could that possibly be?

Jim looked at Nimby. She wished he wouldn't look to
the strange man for guidance so much. "Onto that?"

Nimby nodded.

"Yes, this must be the ferry," Chlorine said. "When I
crossed, I was carried by a fly-by-night."

Jim started the motor. "Jim!" Mary cried, truly
alarmed.

He looked back. "Their advice has been good so far.
Do we stop trusting them now?"

Mary swallowed, feeling—and surely looking—rather
pale. "Drive very slowly."

He inched forward. The front wheels nudged onto the

80   PIERS ANTHONY

cloud surface, and held; it was as solid as it looked.

"Gee," David said, staring out and down.

"Do you believe in group nightmares?" Sean asked rhe-
torically.

Definitely! But Mary stifled her retort.

"Of course there are night mares," Chlorine said.'
"They bring the bad dreams to the people who deserve
them. Don't they go to Mundania too?"

"Oh, sure," Karen said. "I get them all the time."

"Something tells me we're not speaking quite the same
language," Sean said. "Are you talking about just dreams,
Chlorine?" And that was another thing: Mary was quite
uneasy about the lovely young woman's effect on the im-
pressionable seventeen-year-old boy. Sean's eyes were at-
tracted to her as if compelled by magnets; he tried to
conceal his fascination, but Mary saw it. Chlorine was not
trying to be flirtatious, but she didn't have to be. Her mere
presence was more than sufficient. It was clear that she
had not had a lot of experience being beautiful; she tended
to show too much flesh, and it really was by accident. The
girl was fairly innocent, which actually made it more awk-
ward.

"The dreams and the mares," Chlorine replied. "And
the Night Stallion, who governs them. They gallop out
each night to carry their carefully crafted creations."

"Horses!" David cried. He, too, was all too much in-
trigued by the unconscious wiles of the woman. "They're
real horses L"

"Of course," Chlorine said. "Except that you can't usu-
ally see them. You can't see Mare Imbri, either, though
she comes by day with nice day dreams." Her eyes misted
for a moment, perhaps seeing such a dream.

Well, at least their dialogue, and Chlorine's appearance,
were distracting the children from the unbelievable thing
that was happening.

The RV now had all four tires on the cloud. Jim set the
brake and turned off the motor. ' 'We are safely aboard the
ferry," he announced.

YON ILL WIND   81

"Aboard, anyway," Mary murmured tightly.

The cloud began to move. It carried them out over the
depths of the chasm. Those depths were now darkening,
for it was late in the day. The slanting sunlight illuminated
the steep side, but then cut off before the bottom. The
shadow was not impenetrable; there were trees and rocks
in the lowest part.

"Oh, there's the Gap Dragon!" Chlorine cried, point-
ing.

They all peered down. There in the deep distance was
a tiny wormlike thing wriggling along. But Mary was sure
that it would be considerably more formidable up close.
She was glad it wasn 't close.

Karen came to climb into her father's lap. "Daddy, is
this real?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "But I think we had better
assume it is, until we get out of it." With that, Mary could
agree emphatically. She no longer doubted the reality of
this realm, and she most certainly wished to be out of it.

Then the wind rose again. "Oops—that looks like
Fracto," Chlorine said.

"Who?"

"Fracto, the worst of clouds. He always comes to rain
on picnics. Now he must be coming to mess up our
crossing. I don't like this."

"A malign storm?" Mary asked, an ugly shiver running
through her. She did see-the cloud developing, and it
looked just exactly like a thunderstorm. There were even
jags of lightning projecting from it.

"Oooh, it's got a face!" Karen said.

The weird thing was that the child was right: there was
a kind of pattern forming that did look like a vaguely hu-
man face. It had small foggy eyes and a big cruel mouth,
with hugely expanding cheeks, as if it were taking in a
breath so as to blow a blast of air at them.

"Oh, I hope the ferry is enchanted, so Fracto can't blow
us away," Chlorine said.

"Ask Nimby," David suggested.

82 PIERS ANTHONY

Chlorine smiled at the boy. "Of course. Why didn't I
think of that?"

Nimby was already writing a note. He passed it back to
her. " 'The ferry is enchanted,' " she read. "What a re-
lief!"

She was no more relieved than Mary herself was. Pre-
sumably that meant that the storm could huff and puff and
threaten, but couldn't actually "blow them away."

The storm was evidently going to give it a try, however.
The face loomed up hugely, and the mouth exhaled. A
stream of mist shot out, right toward the ferry cloud. But
it turned aside, as if encountering a shield, and passed
above them.

Fracto looked angry. Mary chided herself for personi-
fying the cloud, but the expression was unmistakable.

"Boy, he's mad now," David said with a certain sinister
relish. "He's going to get us if he can." He stuck his
tongue out at the thing.

"Please don't do that," Mary said, experiencing a thrill
of fear. "It's not polite."

"Awww:" But this was routine. Thus Mary didn't have
to admit that her main motivation was concern about mak-
ing the storm furious. What were the limits of protective
enchantment? She did not want to find .out. And of course,
she didn't want David getting into bad habits, anyway.

The cloud certainly tried. But all his huffing and puffing
couldn't blow their house down. They continued their san-
guine float across the chasm, and in due course came to
the far brink. Karen returned to the back so her father
could drive. "I could get to like trolls," Jim remarked as
he started the motor and nudged the RV onto solid land.

Mary felt her tightness dissipating. They had made a
safe crossing. She had always been a bit nervous about air
travel, and this had been a most precarious flight. "The
trollway is the way to go," she agreed.

"Gee, that was great," David said.

Even Chlorine glanced at him, obviously not as pleased
with the experience as he had been.

YON ILL WIND   83

The RV got up speed. But now the day was dimming,
and it was clear that they would be another day on the
road before escaping Xanth. They could, of course, con-
tinue driving, except—

"Do we have enough gas?" Mary asked.

"No," Jim replied. "Less than half a tank left. We'll
need another gas guzzler soon."

"Nimby—" Chlorine said.

The man wrote another note and passed it to Jim.
"There is one ahead, but there's a problem," Jim said.
"It's off the enchanted path, and there may be danger."

"That's all we need," Mary muttered. But they would
have to have more gasoline. "What kind of danger?"

Nimby wrote another note. "A blobstacle course," Jim
announced.

"A what?" Karen asked alertly. Jim seldom punned.

"That's how it's spelled: BLOB-stacle. I hesitate to in-
quire further."

"Oh, sure; there's one of those in a computer game I
play," David said. "You just have to be ready to dodge
fast."

"Dodge City," Sean said. He, in contrast, often punned.

Jim looked at Nimby. ' 'Just how dangerous is a blob-
stacle course!"

The man made another note. Jim read it aloud: " 'In
this moving house, not very dangerous if you avoid the
blobs. But it can be disgusting.' " Jim glanced back. "Dis-
» gusting, I can handle. How about the rest of you?''

"Yeah!" David exclaimed.

Mary wasn't sure, but the thought of getting Stranded
without gas bothered her more. "We had better try it,
dear," she said.

"You call him a deer?" Chlorine asked, surprised.

Mary smiled tiredly. "In a fashion."

Nimby signaled the tumoff, and Jim drove down the
side road. Almost immediately the blobstacle course man-
ifested: a series of huge discolored blobs sitting on and

84   PIERS ANTHONY

about the road. They looked like giant poisonous fungi,
which might be what they actually were.

Jim slowed so as to steer around the first without going
off the road, because the terrain on either side was rough.
It seemed to vary from steep hill to bog: not something to
stick a tire into. He got around the first, then made an S-
tum to get around the second on the other side. So far so
good. This at least was manageable, Mary thought.

"Bogy at three o'clock, high," Sean announced, peering
up out a window.

Something was definitely looming there, rapidly ap-
proaching. "Oh, no," Chlorine said, peering with him. At
any other time Mary would have objected to the way her
bosom was nudging his shoulder. "That looks like a meat-
ier shower."

"A meteor shower!" Jim said without taking his eyes
from the road. "That sounds like a Mundane phenome-
non."

"No, it's another language problem," Chlorine said. "I
have trouble hearing what you say, and you have trouble
hearing what I say. Maybe it's because you didn't pass
through the regular Interface when you .came to Xanth.
You can talk our language, but the nuances don't come
through. That's MEAT as in flesh. Meatier shower. Those
aren't completely dangerous, but they aren't much fun ei-
ther."

"So it's going to rain hamburgers and hot dogs?" Sean

asteA.

"No, it will shower meat. Or am I missing another nu-
ance?"

"Never mind." Sean continued to look out. Then some-
thing solid struck the roof of the RV. "Hey, just how big
are the pieces?"

"All sizes," Chlorine said. "From gnat legs to boiled
rocs. And they can be rotten, depending how long they
have been traveling."

"Dad," Sean said. "Let's get the bleep out of here!"
Then he looked surprised. "Bleep? That isn't what I said."

YON ILL WIND   85

"How old are you?" Chlorine asked.

"Seventeen. Why?"

"That means you're still subject to the Adult Conspir-
acy. You can't say bad words until you pass eighteen."

Sean was astonished. "I can't?"

"Not in Xanth," she said firmly.

Mary suppressed her smile. This land of Xanth wasn't
all bad!

"I can live with it," Karen said, not managing to damp
down her own smile.

"Let me try," David .said. "Bleep!" He looked sur-
prised. "Hey, it's true! Bleep! Bleep!"

"Stop it," Mary said.

"But how could you tell what words I was trying to
say?" he asked plaintively.

"I can read your lips—and your mind."

"Oh. Yeah." He was deflated.

There was a heavy dull thud on the roof of the RV.
"Damn!" Jim muttered, and it almost seemed to Mary that
the air in his vicinity turned slightly smoky. He goosed the
engine, trying to get through the blobstacle course faster.

Something reddish brown splatted against a window.
Dark juice oozed from it. "Ugh!" Karen cried. "What's
that?"

"Part of a bleeping raw liver, I think," Sean answered.

"I'm going to be a vegetarian," she declared.

The vehicle slewed around another blob, an outer wheel
riding up a bank, then squished through some stuff that
surely wasn't ice slush. "There's a guzzler. Dad!" David
called, pointing.

"Got it," Jim said. He slid to a halt by the creature,
who looked exactly like the other one. "Got another pill,
Mary?"

Mary dived into her purse. "Yes. Here." She fished out
the bottle and opened it, spilling several pills. She picked
one up and passed it to her husband.

He gave it to the guzzler. The creature swallowed the

86    PIERS ANTHONY
pill, then looked for the gas tank. But of course, it was

capped. Jim started to open the door.

"No!" Mary cried. "You'll get hit by meat."
Jim hesitated, closing the door. "Somebody's got to

take off the gas cap," he pointed out. "And not you or a

child."

Chlorine perked up. "Nimby?"

Without a word, the young man opened his door and
got out. A huge mass of something bounced in front of

him. "He'll be hit!" Mary cried.

Chlorine pondered for half a moment. "Nimby, assume

your natural form—with tough scales," she called.

Then the young man disappeared, to be replaced by the
ugliest creature Mary could have imagined. It looked like
a mule from the front, being mule-headed, and some kind
of ancient dinosaur from behind, with huge overlapping
scales. Furthermore, it was striped pink and green. The
pink was halfway pretty, but the green was wretched. So
this was the real nature of the creature! No wonder she

had been uneasy about him.

But she reminded herself that he was doing them a fa-
vor. She watched as he made his four-footed way around
the front of the RV. Chunks of meat struck his body, but
did no apparent harm. His scales were indeed tough, as
Chlorine had suggested. But rapidly getting badly soiled.

He came around to the gas tank and used his equine
teeth to twist off the cap. The guzzler stuck in its tail, and
the gas flowed. When the tank was evidently full. Nimby
used his teeth again to put the cap back on and screw it
tight. Then he trundled back around the RV. When he
reached his door, he reverted to man-form. Just in time to
get hit by a big blood blister-from the sky. It didn't seem

to hurt him, but he was completely soaked.

"Get in before you get killed!" Mary screamed, ap-
palled.

The man opened the door and climbed in. "Oooo,

ugh!" Karen said with a certain relish. "What a sunk!"
She was right. Nimby now smelled of rotten guts.

YON ILL WIND   87

"Can't be helped," Jim said, starting the motor.

"Come back here," Mary told Nimby. "I'll see if I can
clean you up." She felt somewhat guilty, because he had
gotten splatted while doing them a favor.

Nimby came back. The children drew away from him,
turned off by the sight and smell of him, but Mary had
cleaned up messes before. "We'll have to wash you off
and give you some clean clothes," she said in motherly
fashion. "Do you know how to use our facilities?"

He nodded.

"Then do so. Pass your clothing out, and I'll pass fresh
things in."

He did so. Relieved, Mary set about a search for cloth-
ing. "He'll have to use some of yours," she told Sean.
"He's about your size. It's in a good cause."

"For sure," he agreed wryly.

She dug out a shirt, jeans, underwear, and an old pair
of sneakers. Then when the lavatory door opened, she ex-
changed them for the sodden things Nimby had been wear-
ing. It was hard to breathe with the stench of them. She
bundled them up and dumped them in a basin for laun-
dering.

Meanwhile Jim was navigating the blobstacle course
back to the main road. It seemed easier now; the meatier
shower was abating, and the blobs seemed to be shrinking.
Apparently even bad things didn't last long, in Xanth.
Soon the road cleared, and they were back on the main
haul. That was another considerable relief.

Nimby emerged, garbed correctly. Now he looked ex-
actly like a barely-beyond-teenager. Sean's clothing fit him
well enough.

"Let me fix your hair," Mary said. She fetched a brush,
and trained his wet hair back in a conventional part.

"Gee, he could pass for one of us," David said. "I
mean, like one of the family."

"Say, do you want to be my brother?" Karen asked
him.

Nimby looked blank. "They're teasing you," Mary

88 PIERS ANTHONY

said. "You don't have to be part of anyone's family." She
realized as she spoke that her attitude toward the young
man had changed. She had been wary of him because she
didn't understand him; now she had seen his natural form,
she understood him better. He was surely somewhat un-
comfortable among human beings, and she wanted to al-
leviate that. Because he was helping them significantly. Of
course, she knew it was because he was Chlorine's com-
panion, doing what Chlorine wanted, and Chlorine had
been assigned to get the family safely through Xanth. Still,
she appreciated what he was doing.

She put away the brush and adjusted his collar. She
realized that he was looking at her. "I'm sorry," she said,
embarrassed. "I'm so used to taking care of my family, I
just automatically do these things. I know you're not a
child."

Nimby smiled. Then he found his pad—actually it just
seemed to appear in his hand, along with the pencil—and
wrote a note. She noticed with surprise that he actually
held the pencil still and moved the notepad against it to
do the writing. He tore off the sheet and gave it to her.

Thank you for your attitude. No one has treated me like
a person before, except Chlorine. I am glad to be thought
of as part of your family.

"Why, thank you. Nimby," Mary said, pleased. She
gave his hand a little squeeze. Then she returned to her
seat.

"If you want to be family, you have to help entertain
the kid," Karen said. "Come here to the table. Nimby,
and play solitaire."

"No, you don't have to do that," Sean said. "Don't let
her push you around."

"What is solitaire?" Chlorine asked.

"It's a card game," Karen said. "Actually there are
many kinds, and some can be played by two or three peo-
ple at once. I'll show you."

Sean and David moved out, and Chlorine and Nimby
joined Karen at the table for instruction in solitaire. Soon

YON ILL WIND   89

«

they were deep into it. Chlorine had the usual miscues of
a beginner, but Nimby seemed to be a natural player. Ei-
ther he was extremely smart, or his general awareness of
things acquainted him with the identities of the hidden
cards. Or maybe both.

How could a donkey-headed dragon be so talented?
Mary wasn't sure, but suspected that the relationship of
animals to humans was different in Xanth. Animals were
smarter here. That business with their own pets was eerie;

it was just as if they had developed almost human intel-
ligence and restraint. And Tweeter had warned them about
the approach of the flying monsters, back at the rest stop.
Or had he? Nimby had claimed to listen to the bird, and
written a note. It could have been Nimby doing it.

It became important for Mary to know. The drive was
quiet now, as Sean accompanied Jim up front, and both
Nimby and Chlorine were involved in Karen's game. Da-
vid was watching the game, about to get involved himself.
So she should be able to do a little experimentation without
attracting attention.

She went back to where the pets were. "Woofer," she
said, and the dog perked up. She unsnapped his leash, free-
ing him. "How smart are you, now?" she asked quietly.

Woofer wagged his tail.

"Suppose I tell you to look out the left window?"

The dog looked out the left window.

Mary controlled her reaction. "Suppose I ask you to
open Tweeter's cage?"

Woofer turned to the birdcage, set teeth and paw to the
catch, and worked it open.

"Tweeter, suppose I tell you to go perch on Karen's
head?"

The bird flew out and landed on the girl's head. Karen
was so preoccupied she didn't notice.

"Midrange."

The cat sat up and gazed at her.

"Suppose I ask you to roll over?" This was not a trick
the cat had been taught.

90   PIERS ANTHONY

Midrange rolled over.

"You animals do understand me, don't you?"

The cat nodded.

"If we treat you three with the respect due intelligent
and disciplined entities, will you behave accordingly?''

Midrange nodded.

"Then we shall do so. Do you know why you are now
so smart?"

The cat shook his head.

' 'I think it is because of the magic of this land. It seems
that magic dust is getting stirred up, and causing numerous
disruptions, including enhancement of the intelligence of
animals." She was speaking in a deliberately advanced
manner, testing the limits. "Does that make sense to
you?"

Midrange considered, then slowly nodded.

"But as you know, there are also some formidable dan-
gers here," Mary said, surprised by how readily she was
accepting this new relationship with their pets. "So I hope
you will remain close by, when we go out of the RV, and
will also warn us, as Tweeter did, when the situation war-
rants."

Midrange agreed again, then wandered off to find a suit-
able place to catnap.

Mary returned to her seat. She had satisfied herself that
Nimby had not been faking it; he had understood bird talk,
and the bird had talked.

Now Mary realized that. night had fallen. She had been
distracted by her investigation and not realized it. They
had spoken of driving through the night, but now she was
not at all certain this was wise. She didn't want Jim suf-
fering deadly fatigue, when any accident could strand them
in a really strange situation. ' 'Dear, maybe we should look
for a place to stay the night," she called.

"Is it safe to stop that long?" he asked.

Chlorine looked up from the card game. "Is it safe,
Nimby?"

YON ILL WIND   91

Nimby wrote a note: This vehicle has outdistanced the
storm. It is safe to pause until dawn.

"Good," Mary said. She was catching on to the way of
these things. "Where is a good place to stay? A camping
park with some facilities would suffice, but I think I'd
rather find a hotel where we can really unwind for a few
hours."

There is an imp settlement near. The imps are courteous
to visitors from afar, if the right village is chosen.

"Then that is where we should stop," Mary decided.

Soon Nimby indicated a side road, and Jim took it. It
led to a sign saying IMPOSSIBLE, with an arrow to the right,
but Nimby indicated that this wasn't the right one. A little
farther was a sign saying IMP RISON, with an arrow to the
left, but it seemed this wasn't right either. Mary was in-
clined to agree; she wouldn't want to stay at either Im-
possible or Imprison, considering the literal tendencies of
this land. Finally a sign said IMP ERIAL, and this one was
good. Mary was glad; Imperial had a quality ring to it.

The village was small but elegant. The jungle had been
cleared back somewhat, and there were neat little gardens
and nice little houses. In fact, everything about this com-
munity seemed small scale.

Following Nimby's indications, they drew up to the
largest building in the village. Its structure suggested that
it was an enormous hotel, but it was only about two human
stories tall.

Though it was night, tiny figures were scurrying about
carrying torches. Each was under One foot tall—the fe-
males significantly under. But apart from that they ap-
peared to be fully human. They were carrying things from
their little houses into the forest.

"What are they doing?" Chlorine asked.

Nimby wrote a note. They are carrying their gems to
the safety of a deep cave.

"Oh, because of the approaching storm," Chlorine said.
"That makes sense."

They got out of the RV, stretching their legs after the

92   PIERS ANTHONY

long confinement. Woofer, Tweeter, and Midrange joined
them, perfectly behaved. The hotel door opened and a man
and a woman emerged. He looked to be in his seventies,
by the human scale, and she in her fifties. "Hello, huge
folk," the woman said, her voice clear despite her tiny
size. ' 'I am Quieta Imp, and this is my father. Imp. Ortant.
We are the leaders of this community, so we run the hos-
pitality domicile. Do you wish to accept our hospitality?''

There was a pause. Then Mary stepped in. "Yes we do,
please. But we—we're not sure your building is big
enough for us." She glanced meaningfully at the foot-high
main door.

"Oh, it has an accommodation spell," Quieta said. "It
will do. Come in."

Somewhat dubiously, Mary stepped forward. As she ap-
proached the building, it seemed to shimmer, and suddenly
it was human size. Quieta and Ortant Imp were human
size too.                        ^

"What happened?" Mary asked, startled.

"You have been accommodated," Quieta said. "See,
the others in your party haven't, yet."

Mary turned. There behind her stood several giants,
thirty to forty feet tall. Even their animals were terrifyingly
large. "Oh!" she said, feeling faint.

Quieta stepped up to take her arm. ' 'I'm sorry; I didn't
realize how new this must be to you. Are you by any
chance Mundane?"

"Yes," Mary said faintly.

"The spell is harmless. It merely makes the various par-
ties seem to be the same size. So we are about two and a
half times as big, and you are about one two and a halfth
as big, or small, as the case may be. But those outside the
spell region don't see that, and to them we all look imp-
ishly small, while to us they look humanly big."

"To be sure," Mary agreed, not able to argue whatever
point there might be.

Now Chlorine stepped forward. She shimmered, and be-
came Mary's size. "Aren't accommodation spells won-

YON ILL WIND   93

derful?" she asked rhetorically. "I've never been in one
before, but I love it. I thought they were only for when
folk of quite different sizes wished to summon the stork."

"To what?" Mary exclaimed, shocked. But she realized
that in this land of magic, storks might be literal, and that
interbreeding of humans and imps might indeed be pos-
sible. "I mean, I'm surprised, that's all."

Chlorine beckoned the others, and one by one they
stepped in, including the animals, who seemed almost as
surprised as the humans. "Gee," Karen said, summing it
all up.

"Come in," Quieta said. "I will show you to your
rooms while my father prepares the evening meal."

They followed her to an omate staircase that wound up
to a sumptuous second story. Quieta opened the door on
a truly splendid suite. "Will this do?" she asked somewhat
timidly. "It has four bedrooms and lavatories, with facil-
ities for your animal companions."

"But we can't afford anything like this!" Mary pro-
tested.

"Afford?"

"What does this princely suite cost?"

"Cost?"

"Imps don't charge for their hospitality," Chlorine mur-
mured.

"But we can't accept this!" Mary said.

Quieta looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry; I thought it
would be adequate. I will try to find better rooms for you."

"No, no!" Mary said. "It's not that. It's that this suite
is so fancy, we don't have any right to take it, especially
not without paying."

"But you are guests," Quieta said.

Mary looked at Chlorine. "This is the way of it? All
this—with no charge? Just because we stopped here?"

' 'Yes. I thought you knew. Of course, if we had stopped
at Rison, it would have been much less comfortable."

"Imp-rison," Sean murmured appreciatively.

"Then it's all right?" Quieta asked hopefully.

94   PIERS ANTHONY

"Oh my dear, it's wonderful," Mary said. "I simply
had no idea it would be so fancy. We—we are used to
much simpler accommodations."

"We imps take pride in our hospitality," Quieta said,
evidently relieved. "Will an hour be enough time before
supper?"

"Yes, of course," Mary said. "And thank you, Quieta.
Thank you so much. This is really nice."

"You are welcome," the imp lady said, and departed.

They explored the suite. There was a huge master bed-
room, and three smaller ones, and a sitting room with sev-
eral couches, and an alcove with what looked like dog
food, cat food, and birdseed, as well as the two bathrooms.
The master bathroom had a tub the size of a small swim-
ming pool, while the other had a shower. "This is just so
amazing," Mary breathed. "Just to be hospitable."

The three pets were waiting expectantly, Mary realized
why. "Certainly—indulge yourselves," she said. They im-
mediately went to the pet nook and started eating.

"How about us?" David asked. "You adults have the
master bedroom with the great bath, and Chlorine and
Nimby have the first regular bedroom, but how do us kids
split the other two?"

Mary considered. "If one of you wants to sleep on a
couch in the sitting room, you can all have rooms to your-
selves. But one of you will have to share a bathroom with
the one on the couch. Can you work that out between
you?"

All three nodded enthusiastically.

"Then let's try to be ready for supper within the hour."
She glanced at Chlorine. "I didn't think—you do wish to
share a room with Nimby? If not—"

"That's fine," Chlorine said. "Come on. Nimby—you
still have some of that meatier shower stink. I'm going to
scrub you clean." She led the young man to their bedroom.

Sean looked after them. "I wish / could get scrubbed
clean by a creature like—" Then he realized that his

YON ILL WIND   95

mother was looking at him, and cut off, somewhat (but
perhaps not sufficiently) embarrassed.

Jim and Mary entered the master bedroom and closed
its door. "Who first?" she asked, glancing at the enormous
tub.

"What, not together?" he asked.

"You think this is our honeymoon?" she inquired
archly.

"In this suite, it. feels like it."

He was right. "Together," she agreed. "But don't get
fresh." She went to run the water.

This turned out to be interesting. There was only one
tap, but when she turned it on, the water came out exactly
the right degree of hot. The two towels were small, but
when she touched one with her wet hand, it dried the hand
immediately. There was one tiny bar of soap, shaped like
a stone—obviously a soapstone—but when she dipped it
in the water it made a big fluff of scented bubbles. There
just might be some magic here. Well, she was getting used
to that, in this magic land, and this was one of the first
really pleasant surprises it had had for her.

Soon they were both in the tub, scrubbing each other,
and it was wonderful. Jim did get fresh, and she allowed
it, because it did indeed feel like their honeymoon. "If
every day were only like this," she murmured.

"I think we have been selling Xanth short," he agreed.
"It's like a powerful new computer program: at first you
run afoul of all its traps, and they mess you up and drive
you crazy, but then you start getting really into it, and you
find out how nice it can be."

"Mmnun," she agreed luxuriously.

After that, things got somewhat out of hand, but it was
worth it. Just so long as none of the children barged in on

them.

They were ready by the time the hour was up, bright
and clean and in fresh clothing. So were the children,
amazingly. And the pets, who evidently intended to join
them downstairs.

96   PIERS ANTHONY

"But—" Mary started. Then she remembered how ad-
vanced the animals had become. "Of course." The others
glanced at her in surprise, but didn't comment.

Quieta appeared promptly. "Right this way," she said.

They found themselves in a very nice dining chamber
sized just about right for their party. Quieta went into the
adjacent kitchen and emerged pushing a cart with a number
of platters and pitchers. These turned out to have an as-
sortment of meats, vegetables, pastries, breads, and bev-
erages. "I would serve you, but I am not.sure of Mundane
tastes, so I brought a selection that you could choose from
yourselves," she explained. "I shall be happy to answer
questions about what may be unfamiliar to you."

Sean reached for a pitcher. "This looks familiar. What
is it?"

"Boot rear."

He smiled. "Sure." He poured himself a cupful. He
took a good gulp—and jumped halfway out of his chair.
"Hey!"

Karen tittered. "Boot rear! I get it. Serves you right."

Mary eyed what looked like something scavenged from
the meatier shower. "What is this, please?"

"That is steak, from a steak-out tree."

Mary decided to risk it, and was rewarded with an ex-
cellent entree. The others followed suit, and did seem to
enjoy the strange meal. They finished with eye scream,
which turned out to resemble screaming eyeballs but tasted
much like the confection they knew in Mundania.

As they finished. Imp Ortant returned. "I shall try to
entertain you, while Quieta does the dishes," he said.

"Maybe we should help with the dishes," Mary said,
feeling guilty again because they weren't paying for this.

"No, the spells wouldn't work for you. How may I best
help you to enjoy yourselves?"

"I for one would like to know a bit more about your
village, your society," Jim said. "I haven't encountered
imps before." David and Karen looked as if they would

YON ILL WIND   97

rather watch TV, but Mary stifled them with a warning

glance.

Ortant, however, saw and understood the glance. "Per-
haps the children would prefer to remain and watch the
magic mirror," he suggested. "While I give the adults a

tour of our village."

"Magic mirror?" Karen asked, her interest suddenly

revving up.

The imp went to a large mirror at the end of the cham-
ber. "Mirror, would you like to entertain two Mundane
children?" he asked.

A mouth appeared on the glass. It seemed to be a re-
flection, but there was nothing it could be reflecting from.
"Why not? I'll show them the Magic Tapestry of Castle
Roogna."

"A tapestry?" David asked, disappointed.

"The Tapestry shows any scene of Xanth you wish to
see," Ortant explained. "Most children find it quite inter-
esting. Of course, it won't violate the Adult Conspiracy."

"Awwww," they said together.

"But it does show historical battles where dragons
chomp people, men throw women into pits, and blood

flows in rivers."

"Gee," they said together again, their interest restored.
Mary winced; apparently Xanth had the same standards as
Mundania in this respect.

David and Karen set chairs before the mirror. "Let's
see that river of blood," David said.

The mirror showed a country scene with a bright red
river flowing in the manner of a normal brook.

"Aw, that's just colored water," Karen said.

The mirror's reflect-mouth appeared, superimposed on
the scene. "Why don't you ask me to have the Tapestry
trace up to the source of that river, where the blood is
spurting from a wounded giant?"

"Yeah!" they said together.

Quieta arrived with a plate of pastries shaped like little
vanilla wheels with chocolate spokes. "Here are punwheel

98   PIERS ANTHONY

cookies for you to eat while you watch," she said.

Mary masked her sigh. It seemed the children would be
quite satisfied.

"Right this way," Ortant said, walking to the door. Jim,
Mary, Sean, Chlorine, and Nimby followed- him. Mary
hoped the tour wouldn't be as boring as the children had
feared. But they had to take it, as a matter of courtesy, to
reward the imps for their hospitality. With luck it wouldn't
be long; then they could settle down for a night of blissful
rest.

The three pets came too. That made Mary think of
something. "Woofer—maybe stay with the children?" she
asked.

The dog cocked his head at her, then nodded and turned
back. He was Sean's pet, but he would guard the children.

"Thank you," Mary murmured, relieved. She had no
reason to be suspicious, but she did not feel easy about
leaving the children entirely alone among strangers. They
would come to physical harm, literally, over the dog's dead
body. And Woofer would probably enjoy the exploration
of the river of blood too.

6
DECISION

Meow!" Midrange said imperatively.
Sean smiled and bent to pick up the cat. Nat-
urally Midrange didn't want to walk when he
could ride. Since Sean's dog was staying with David, Da-
vid's cat would take over Sean.

Then Tweeter flew up to perch on Sean's hair. That
surprised him. Karen had managed to impress on Midrange

YON ILL WIND   99

that any bite out of the bird would swiftly lead to a worse
bite out of the cat, so Tweeter was tolerated unmolested.
But the two had not been exactly bosom buddies. Now,
with the magic, they seemed to be getting along better.
And all three animals had become eerily smart. So maybe
Tweeter figured the cat would understand his concerns bet-
ter than human beings would.

They stepped outside the dining room, and outside the
hotel. The wind was rising; it buffeted them. Imp Ortant
lifted a lantern from a hook beside the door and strode out
into the street.

"Uh, what about the accommodation spell?" Sean
asked the imp, who now looked exactly like an old human
man. "I mean, if we leave the hotel, won't we revert?"

Ortant lifted the lamp, which cast its glow more widely.
"There is a duplicate accommodation spell built into this
magic lamp," he explained. "As long as you remain in its
light, the spell will hold. This is best, because we shall be
going into some places way too small for normal human
folk."

So they had it figured. Sean returned to his normal in-
terest, which for the past day or so had been Chlorine. She
was the sexiest woman he had encountered. Oh, sure, he
had caught that glimpse of her when she reverted to her
normal state, but that wasn't the way she looked now, so
who cared? Consider Nimby, who had turned out to be a
mule-headed dragon. Talk of damsels and dragons! No-
body seemed to be having any problem accepting Nimby
as a man—in Sean's clothes, yet!—so why should he,
Sean, have any with Chlorine? Nobody was very pretty on
the inside, anyway; it was all blood and guts and brain
tissue. By the time Chlorine reverted to her regular dull
appearance, he'd be back in Mundania anyway. So he
might as well enjoy it while he could.

Sean slowed his pace a trifle, so that he fell back in the
group, and Nimby and Chlorine caught up to him. Now if
she would just walk in front of him—but maybe that
would come. He had caught enough glimpses of her bosom

100 PIERS ANTHONY

and thighs to keep him floating for some time; she evi-
dently wasn't used to the fancy clothing she wore now,
and didn't realize quite how much it tended to show. He
sure wasn't going to tell her!

Tweeter cheeped faintly in his ear. "Eyes left." At least
that was what it almost sounded like. Startled, he looked
left—and Chlorine was moving close to him.

"Those are nice pets," she said, her voice dulcet. "Was
Tweeter speaking to you?"

"Yeah. He told me something lovely was coming up on
my left."

She smiled. "Thank you. Tweeter. I think you're lovely
too."

The bird did a little dance of ecstasy, fluffing his feath-
ers.

"Sean, you're the first young man I've met, since
Nimby made me beautiful," she said. "I think I am prac-
ticing on you, to see how loveliness works. I hope you
don't mind."

"I—you—you practice all you want," Sean said, star-
tled by her candor. How he wished he could get her alone
and do some real practicing!

"You see, all my life men have scorned me, because I
was plain," she continued. "So I really don't know how
to act around them. I can't practice on Nimby, because
he's not really a man. Please let me know if I bother you."

"I don't think you could bother me if you tried," he
said, feeling light-headed.

She laughed. "I could in my normal state. But I had
Nimby make me nice as well as beautiful, and smart. But
intelligence doesn't substitute for experience."

"That's for sure." The possibilities were setting his
pulses pounding. She wanted romantic experience.

But now they had arrived somewhere. Just when it had
been getting really interesting. Too bad.

They entered what seemed like an ordinary building.
"This is where we prepare the raw stones," Ortant said.
"Atient here is a very fast worker." Sure enough, the imp

YON ILL WIND   101

man was working with blinding speed, doing things to a
collection of pebbles on his table. The gems were of sev-
eral colors, and seemed to glow, or actually to be burning.
"These are safe fire stones, used for making fires that will
not get out of control."

"Sapphires," Mom murmured. She had a good eye for
gems.

"What are these?" Chlorine asked, indicating several
red gems that looked like little letter L's and were rapidly
spinning.

"Spinels," Ortant said. "They are valued for their flash-
ing color."

They left the building and passed a mound covered with
gravestones. An imp was using a scoop to pull shining bits
of stone from it. "This is a die mound," Ortant said. "It
is not safe to walk on it unless you wish to die. Then you
never leave it."

"Diamonds are forever," Dad remarked.

"Fortunately Robable is able to harvest stones from it
without getting caught," Ortant said.

"Improbable," Sean muttered, catching on.

They passed a garden with yellowish rods growing from
the ground. An imp was rubbing them, collecting some-
thing in a bag. "Goldenrods," Ortant explained. "Radical
is harvesting their pollen, which we use to powder other
jewelry with golden glitter."

They passed a glade where many bees were buzzing.
Several of them buzzed the party threateningly, but didn't
actually sting. Midrange batted at those that approached
Sean, and Tweeter flapped his wings with annoyance.
"What's the matter with them?" Mom asked, irritated.
"Why are they so pointlessly hostile?"

"They are rude bees," Ortant explained. "Ede will stop
them." And an imp walked out toward the bees, his very
presence seeming to hold them back.

"Imp Ede rude bees—impede rubies," Sean murmured.

"You're so clever," Chlorine said, batting an eyelash.
She was improving with practice; he felt foolishly flattered.

102   PIERS ANTHONY

They came to a pool where another imp was working
with a bucket shaped like an 0. "Rovise is using the 0-
pail to try to dip out the matriarch of pearls."

"Opal—mother-of-pearl," Sean said. Chlorine batted
another lash. He felt twice as clever as he was.

Then they came to a pen in the water where several fish-
tailed equines were confined. One neighed. "Oh—sea
horses!" Chlorine exclaimed, thrilled.

"In a corral—-coral," Sean said, working it out.

"Ose is doing his best to tame the horses in time,"

Ortant said.

"In time for what?" Dad asked.

"In time to save them from the magic storm that is
approaching. Our wares are very sensitive to changes in
ambient magic; something we might not notice could cause
them to go wrong. We need to clear the entire village by
tomorrow night. That is why we are working so hard to-
night; we need to complete our work and get our things
to safety." He frowned. "Unfortunately these horses are
ill at ease now, and not cooperating well."

Chlorine touched the water with one finger. "No won-
der—this water is germy."

"Yes, the storm is polluting it with weird forms of life.

But there's nothing we can do."

"I can fix it," she said. She touched the water again.
"But aren't you poisoning it?" Sean asked anxiously.
"Yes. But not so much it will hurt the horses. It will

just wipe out the germs. Then my poison will fade, and

leave it pure for a while."

Sean did a double take. "Of course—chlorine—the
chemical—we use that in Mundania! To clear our water."

Ortant was surprised. "You poison your water to clear
it? I thought there was no magic in Mundania.''

Sean laughed. "It does seem crazy, but it works."

The horses already seemed to be doing better. "We
thank you," Ortant said to Chlorine. "We never thought
of purifying the water by poisoning it."

YON ILL WIND   103

They moved on, and Ortant showed them other aspects
of the imp operation.

"But—" Mom said, troubled. "But shouldn't you and
your daughter be helping in this effort, instead of—of
tending to us?''

"But you are guests," Ortant said. "We must see to
your comfort."

Mom did not seem quite satisfied, but she said no more.

Ortant brought them to a burning portal. "This is the
gate of fire through which we must take our wares to
safety," he said. "Ressed will show us the vaults."

"Fire agate," Sean murmured. "Impressed."

"I'm impressed," Chlorine murmured. "You are just
so, so clever!" She was beautiful anyway, but by this time
she would have looked lovely regardless of her appear-
ance.

"So are you," he replied.

"Oh!" she said, caught by surprise by his return com-
pliment. Then she smiled. "It works both ways, doesn't
it?"

"Yes. That's what courtship is all about," he said, feel-
ing very wise.

"Jim ..." Mom said with quiet urgency.

"Perhaps we have seen .enough," Dad said, picking up
on Mom's mood. "We should get a good night's sleep."

"Certainly, if you wish," Ortant said. "I shall lead you
back forthwith."

Sean knew that they didn't want to take more of the
imp's time, when it was clear that the village had such a
lot to do. He understood the sentiment. He also knew that
the notion of children growing up and finding love made
Mom nervous. She thought no one ever crossed the line
to adulthood, after her own generation.

As they traced their route back to the hotel. Chlorine
expressed her curiosity. "I hadn't realized that imps made
so many gems. I thought that Jewel the Nymph handled
that."

"Imps make all the gems," Ortant said proudly. "From

104 PIERS ANTHONY

the sparkles of light in morning dew to the most enduring
treasure. Where do you think the nymph obtains her sup-
ply?"

"I had thought it was from a barrel that never emptied."

"Because we imps are constantly working to replenish
it. We fashion the gems; the jewel nymphs place them for
others to find. So it has ever been."

"Oh, I'm so impressed!" she exclaimed. "I mean, not
the imp, but the surprise, the awe of your accomplish-
ment—"

"I understand," Ortant said, looking pleased. It was
clear that her art was working on him, too.

They arrived at the hotel. David, Karen, and Woofer
remained engrossed by the magic mirror. Mom rousted
them out and packed everyone upstairs.

After a flurry of preparations for the night, the others
were in their bedrooms and Sean was in the suite's living
room with the animals. He stretched out on the largest
couch, discovering how tired he was. He would lull him-
self to sleep with mental pictures of Chlorine innocently
undressing. He knew their relationship wasn't real, but it
was one hell, or rather, heaven, of an illusion, and he
wanted to savor it while he could.

All three pets approached him. "Oh, you want to share
my bed?" he asked. "Well, okay, but don't bleep on it."
He noted with bemusement that he still wasn't able to say
"poop," that evidently being on the proscribed list for his
age.

"Seean," Tweeter chirped.

Sean glanced at the bird. "I swear, it sounded as if you
said my name."

Tweeter nodded. "Taalk," he chirped.

"You want to talk to me? This is getting hard to be-
lieve."

"Taaalk," Midrange meowed.

"Rrryess," Woofer agreed.

"But I'm making the effort to believe," Sean said.
"What is it so important that you guys have to tell me?"

YON ILL WIND   105

The three seemed at a loss. "Aaaask," Woofer said.

"Oh, you mean it's hard for you to talk human, so I'd
better play twenty questions?"

All three nodded.

"Okay. Can I take it for granted that you three remain
friendly to our family, despite your new intelligence, and
wish us no harm?"

They nodded. "Um, maybe we can simplify this. How
about a single woof, meow, or tweet for yes, two for no,
and three for I'.d better do some more asking about that
one?"

There was a small chorus of single sounds.

"Maybe we'd better have a single spokespet," Sean
said, smiling. "I think Tweeter makes a single sound most
readily, so I'll address him, but if anyone else has some-
thing to say, cut in." He pondered a moment. "Is there
some danger to us?"

"Tweet."

"Does it relate to the storm we're trying to outdis-
tance—Happy Bottom?"

"Tweet."

"Well, we're going to get moving on north in the mom-
ing. Isn't that good enough?"

"Tweet tweet."

"How about the crack of dawn, and gobble breakfast
while driving?"

"Tweet."

"Okay, I'll go tell Dad now. He won't be asleep yet."
Sean started to get up.

"Tweet tweet tweet."

"Um." Sean considered again. "Something more I
should know about this?"

"Tweet."

"Now, let me figure. You guys must've learned some-
thing we humans didn't. But you were with us all the
time—two of you with me, one with the kids. So it can't
be-—say! Was it from before? Did you talk with other an-
imals somewhere along the way?"

106   PIERS ANTHONY

"Tweet."

"And they know something the humans don't."

"Tweet tweet tweet."

"Okay, that we don't. How about the imps? They
know?"

"Tweet."

"Which is why they're getting the bleep out of here.
The storm. But we already knew about that."

"Tweet tweet tweet."

"Something more about the storm. Apart from stirring
up things and maybe blowing us away. But I can't figure
what"

"Woimps," Woofer said.

"Sure, I'm a wimp. But I still can't figure this out."

"Woof woof."

"Oh, I'm not a wimp? Then what were you saying?"

"Meoimp," Midrange said.

"Oh, the imps! They're friendly, aren't they?"

"Tweet."

' 'And the storm means trouble for them too. Because of
the magic dust it's stirring up, which can bring madness
when there's too much. So they are clearing up and out."

"Tweet tweet tweet."

"More on that." Sean pondered again. "They know
what they're doing, don't they? They're on schedule?"

"Tweet tweet."

"Oho! They're not going to make it in time?"

"Tweet."

' 'Because we delayed them by taking up their time and
effort?"

The three pets exchanged glances. "Tweet tweet,"
Tweeter said doubtfully.

"But we might have? At least we made it rougher for
them by making a distraction when they're desperately
busy?"

"Tweet."

"Now I got it. So is there any way we can help?"

"Tweet."

YON ILL WIND   107

"By like maybe carrying things—say! If we stepped out
of accommodation, we'd be huge compared to them, and
could carry a whole lot for them. Then they'd get done in
time."

"Tweet."

"I'll ask Dad." This time there was no protest as he got
up. He went to the master bedroom and knocked on the
door. In a moment Dad opened it. "What is it, Sean?"

"The pets told me: the imps aren't going to get their
stuff all moved in time, maybe because we delayed them.
We could maybe help them—"

"We'll inquire," Dad said. He stepped out, and they
walked out of the suite and downstairs. The pets came
along.

There was no one there. "They must be out working,"
Sean said. "And they never said a word to us."

"We'll find them." They went out the main door, and
Dad 'took the magic lantern. "We need to stay accom-
modated for this, I think."

They had hardly started down the path before Quieta
appeared. Her apron was mussed and her hair coming
loose, as if she had been hectically busy. "Oh, I'm sorry!
I must have neglected you," she cried. "What do you
need?"

"We are concerned that we have delayed you at a crit-
ical time," Dad said. "Can we help you to do what you
have to do, before we move on?''

She shook her head. "That is a very courteous thought
But though we could use your assistance, it would be at
too great a cost. You have just time to get clear of Xanth
before the dust intensifies, if you start at dawn and do not
stop. I used the mirror to talk with the Good Magician,
who is always correct. You must not delay at all. If you
remained to help us, you would be caught, and then you
would not be able to escape Xanth. You might be trapped
here a very long and bad time. We would be terrible hosts
if we let that happen."

108   PIERS ANTHONY

"Maybe we could help now, at night, before dawn,"
Sean suggested.

"No, I do not mean to disparage your effort, but you
are Mundanes. You would blunder in the dark, and be of
no use. Only by daylight could you help, and that is when
you must be gone."

Dad looked at Sean. "I don't like this, but I think we
had better depart on schedule."

"I guess so," Sean agreed reluctantly. "The best thing
we can do for these good folk is to get the bleep out of
their way."

Dad turned back to Quieta. "We apologize for delaying
you. We shall depart at the crack of dawn. Don't take any
trouble for our breakfast or anything; .we'll move out on
our own."

"Thank you," she said. "But there is food you can take.
Woofer knows where it is. I wish you well on your jour-
ney." She turned and went back down the path.

"I feel like a heel," Sean muttered.

"So do I," Dad agreed. "But it's the best we can do."
They returned to the hotel.

Sean settled down on the couch again, and the pets set-
tled on or around him. He closed his eyes, and saw a men-
tal picture of Chlorine wearing a filmy nightdress. Now, if
he could just get to sleep with her beside him ...

Before dawn the parents were up and knocking on doors.
Sean never knew how they did it, but they were always
alert when they needed to be. Chlorine looked sleepy but
still lovely, while Nimby looked the same as ever: neutral.
While the others were blearily-getting washed and dressed,
Dad started loading things into the RV and Mom went to
the kitchen with Woofer to fetch the food left there for
them. Sean went from room to room and collected the used
sheets for the laundry, trying to save Quieta that much
effort. He still felt guilty.

He took the pets out for a quick walk so they could do
their business. It was weird stepping out of the accom-

YON ILL WIND   109

modation spell; suddenly they were all giants, beside the
dollhouse hotel. He took the pets on to the RV, knowing
how important it was to have no delay for any reason.

Just before dawn they were all bundled into the vehicle,
and Dad was starting the motor. The imps were still hur-
rying around, doing their work. Sean thought he saw
Quieta, and waved to her, but wasn't sure she saw him.
She looked tired.

They drove back along the access road to the trollway.
Suddenly there was a loud ripping noise, and a jagged
crack appeared in the dark sky, and the whole landscape
lightened. "What happened?" David cried, startled.

"Oh, that was the crack of dawn," Chlorine said. "To
let in the light. Sometimes it gets stuck on night, and the
sun won't come up because it's afraid of the dark, so the
shroud of night has to be cracked open."

Even Karen evidently found that somewhat far-fetched,
but it did seem to be the way it was in Xanth.

They broke out the food the imps had left them, which
had made the accommodation change with them. There
was something for everyone, ranging from miraculously
still-cold eye scream to dog biscuits. Even in their absence,
the imps were excellent hosts.

The drive quickly got tedious, so Sean took a hand and
taught the others how to play poker for matchsticks. Chlo-
rine tended to let her cards show, as she did other things,
which was part of her appeal; but mute Nimby turned out
to be an unbluffable player. He'obviously knew which
cards everyone else held. Soon he had all the matchsticks,
and the game lapsed.

"Did you notice that there were no women or children,
other than Quieta?" Mom remarked from the front seat.

"I think they were already in the safe cave," Chlorine
said. "All that was left were the men, finishing all they
could."

"Which isn't enough," Sean said. "They aren't going
to make it on time before the dust of madness comes and
spoils their remaining stones."

110   PIERS ANTHONY

"They aren't?" Chlorine asked, concerned. "How do
you know?"

"The animals told me," Sean said, petting Woofer.
' 'They talked to other animals.''

Chlorine looked at Nimby, who nodded.

"Couldn't we help?" David asked, evincing a rare sign
of social conscience.

"Not without being caught by it ourselves," Sean said
grimly.

"You mustn't do that," Chlorine said quickly. "I have
to get you safely out of Xanth."

"But the imps were real nice," Karen said. "We should
have helped them."

"But if it just got you caught for the madness,'' that
would be as much harm as good,'' Chlorine said.

"Yeah, I guess," Karen agreed reluctantly. Sean under-
stood her feeling, because he shared it.

Time passed. Sean got tired of looking out the window,
and it was hard to look too much at Chlorine without being
obvious, so he wound up snoozing as the others got into
more solitaire, a game Nimby couldn't dominate as com-
pletely.

He woke when the RV turned off the main road. He
glanced at his watch. Hours had passed, and it was now
near the middle of the day. "Are we leaving Xanth?" he
asked, actually somewhat disappointed.

"Dad needs more gas," Karen informed him. "Sleepy-
head."

Sean looked out. "Where are we?"

"Tall Hassle," David said.

"Tallahassee? That sounds familiar."

"It isn't. This is Xanth, remember? Those are tall hassle
trees out there."

There were indeed some very tall trees. "Tall Hassle,"
Sean agreed, not wanting to get into a hassle, tall or short,
while Chlorine was watching.

"We are looking for a car pool, where there should be

YON ILL WIND   111

a cargo of gas at a carport," Karen said, relishing the puns.
" 'Cause there's no gas guzzler here."

"Oh? Who says."

"Nimby says."

That did seem to settle it. Sean looked out to see if he
could spot the car pool.

"There it is!" Karen cried, pointing. She had the sharp
blue eyes of innocent youth.

Sean looked. There, indeed, it was: a body of water in
the shape of a huge car, rolling across the land on watery
wheels. "I should have known," he muttered.

Dad honked the horn. The car pool seemed to hear, be-
cause it rolled to a stop by the side of the road. "Don't
get out," Dad warned. "There may be danger."

Nimby nodded.

Sure enough: a giant tigerlike creature made of water
came bounding toward them: a car-nivore. It loomed over
the RV and tried to bite it, but its water teeth couldn't dent
the metal. It made a wet roar and bounded away again.

An old woman walked out of the water. She was made
of water too, but she had a certain car-isma, perhaps be-
cause of the water car-nation in her hair. "I wouldn't give
two cents for a tankful of gas," Dad called, "but I would
give one."

"That's car-ma," Karen said.

"I will take it," the water woman said. "My son will
give it to you." She turned and called "Toon!"

A garish water man waded out of the pool, followed by
a shaggy little car-pet. "Coming, Ma!" he burbled. He
brought out a big bottle of wine-colored liquid.

"And that must be the car-port," Sean said.

Dad got out and unscrewed the gas cap, and Car-toon
poured the liquid in. Sean hoped this was really what they
needed. Suppose it wasn't gasoline, but wine? Because
port was a kind of wine.

It seemed to be okay, because the motor started up well
enough. But of course, there would still be some of the

112   PIERS ANTHONY

old gas-guzzler juice in the tank, so it was too soon to be
sure.

"Thank you," Dad called as he put the vehicle in mo-
tion. Car-ma waved affably.

Then a huge shadow crossed their path. Sean looked
up—and saw a giant bird. "A roc!" he cried. "The mon-
sters've caught up again."

But Nimby wrote a note. No. That is a roc-ette. They
congregate in the tall hassle grove to practice their danc-
ing.

"That explains everything," Sean said sourly.

The big bird circled, peering down. "I think she thinks
we're going to molest her nest or something," David said.
"She's eyeing us."

Dad was concerned too. "That bird is big enough to
pick us up and dump us in the sea," he said. "How can
we get away from her?"

Nimby wrote another note. There is a B-have near. The
B's will dissuade her.

"Just show the way," Dad said gamely.

Nimby went up front, exchanging places with Mom, so
he could indicate the direction. "I shall be quite glad to
get out of this weird world," Mom said. "In Mundania
all we have to worry about are thieves and muggers." She
smiled, to show this was in jest, to a degree.

"But what about the imps?" Karen asked.

Mom sighed. "I confess, I do wish we had found some
way to help them. They were so kind to us, despite the
extremity of their situation."

They were approaching what looked like the world's
biggest, fiercest hornet nest. That would be the beehive.
Or B-have, as Nimby called it.

"Just what kind of creatures are these?" Dad asked war-
ily.

"Oh, B's are all right, if you don't rile them," Chlorine
said. "Their stings are mainly emotional."

"I sure get emotional when I get stung," Karen said.

Dad, evidently acting on Nimby's written advice, rolled

YON ILL WIND   113

down his window and addressed the big insects buzzing
there. "I B-held your nice hive, er, have, and B-lieve you
can do something on my B-half, if you care to B-friend
me. Can I B-guile you to make the roc B-gone?'' And he
held out an old nylon comb.

The B's clustered about the comb. This was evidently
something new and exciting to them. In a moment they
picked it up and carried it into their have/hive. They had
accepted the offering. Then another swarm formed into an
arrow and shot up to intercept the roc wheeling above. In
a moment there was a loud squawk, and the bird zoomed
away so swiftly as to leave a sonic boom behind.

Karen giggled. "I guess that salted her tail."

"B-nighted mission accomplished," Sean said. "That
B-lies our concern about B's." He glanced at Mom, who
was known to be nervous about insects of most types.

Dad looped around and made his way back to the troll-
way. "I am really getting to appreciate the protection of
the beneficial spell on this road," he remarked. "When-
ever we leave it, we get into trouble."

"Except for the imps," David reminded him.

"Except for the imps," Dad agreed as they resumed
speed. "You know, we are now close to the boundary of
Xanth; in a couple of hours we'll be clear of it, and back
in the normal realm. Yet I almost wonder—"

"We'll have to say good-bye to Chlorine," Sean said,
stricken by the realization. "And Nimby," he added, not
wanting to be too obvious.

"Who have helped us as much as the imps did," Mom
added.

"Is anybody else thinking what I am?" Dad asked.

Sean was suddenly excited. "Like—like maybe not
leaving Xanth right now?"

"But we have to get home," Mom protested. "We're
late already."

"To school," Karen said, making a wry face.

"To chores," David said.             ¥

"To work," Dad said.

114   PIERS ANTHONY

"To research," Mom said. "It occurs to me that though
I love my work, researching archaic languages, there may
be a unique chance for similar research here. It may have
escaped the notice of the rest of you, but we are no longer
speaking English; we are speaking the universal magic lan-
guage of Human Xanth, just as the pets are speaking the
universal animal magic language of Animal Xanth. Such
an opportunity should perhaps not be passed by."

Sean grinned. "Mom always did have a problem com-
municating. What she's trying to say is she'd just as soon
stick around here awhile longer."

"Yea!" Karen cried, clapping her little hands.

Dad glanced at Mom. "When you give a scholarly ra-
tionale, you always have an underlying gut motive. What
is it? Surely you aren't thrilled with meatier showers or
harpy bombs."

"It's the imps," she confessed. "They were so nice to
us, and we may have imposed at the worst time. I wish
we could help them."

"But we would get caught by the madness," Sean re-
minded her, though he was as eager as any to remain in
Xanth. Mom required careful managing, as Dad knew; it
wasn't safe to agree with her too quickly, lest she argue
the opposite case in an attempt to be Quite Fair.

"Yes. Yet it seems that all of Xanth faces that same
threat. Is it right for us to escape what they can't?"

She was begging to be persuaded. What would clinch
it? Sean had an inspiration. "Let's ask the pets." Before
anyone else could speak, he addressed the animals. ' 'What
do you guys have to say? Do you want to stay here in
Xanth longer?"

All three nodded. But that wasn't necessarily enough.
He needed a good, solid argument for turning back. ' 'What
do you know that we don't?"

"Woof," Woofer said. He tried again. "Woimp."

"Something about the imps," Sean said. "The ones
running the hotel? Quieta? Ortant?"

"Woof."

YON ILL WIND   115.

"Ortant. He's not what he seems?"

"Woof."

"Something bad?"

"Woof. Woof."

They were zeroing in on it. "Something good?"

"Woof woof woof."

"He's more than the innkeeper?" Chlorine asked,
catching on to the mechanism.

"Woof."

A lightbulb flashed above Chlorine's head. "I remember
now. He's the mayor of the village."

"Woof!"

"The mayor!" Mom exclaimed. "I had forgotten."

"The most important imp is always the host for guests,"
Chlorine said. "Because they feel that hospitality is the
most important function of a village. I had forgotten too;

I didn't pay proper attention in Centaur School, or I would
have realized right away."

"But surely the mayor should have been supervising the
business of clearing out the village," Dad said.

"Meow."

David looked at Midrange. "I guess so—after taking
care of the visitors."'

"Yes," Sean said. "Ortant and Quieta were off inthe
village when Dad and I went down at night. They thought
we were safe asleep, so they were getting back to their
business. Without bothering us about it."

"Such courtesy is rare in Mundania," Dad said. "Yet
it begs to be returned in kind."

That did it. "We must go back," Mom said decisively.

"Can we get there in time?" Dad asked. "It will be
evening, and that's when they have to be done."

"Nimby?" Chlorine asked.

Nimby nodded.

"And you," Mom said to Chlorine. "This will be ex-
tending your job. We don't have the right to—"

"I'm happy to," Chlorine said. "This has been more
fun for me than anything. And I like the imps too."

116   PIERS ANTHONY

Sean was very glad to hear that. Now he would get more
time with Chlorine—maybe a lot more time. So she could
practice whatever she wanted on him. Like maybe pro-
gressing beyond the verbal interplay.

Dad slowed the RV, getting ready to turn it around. "I
hope we don't regret this," he said. But he didn't look

regretful.

7
MADNESS

David was glad they were going back. This magic
world of Xanth took some getting used to, but he
was getting there, and it certainly was more inter-
esting than Mundania. He knew that eventually he'd be
back in dreary school, but at least he'd have a good subject

for the How I Spent My Summer report.

Now they were heading into Xanth instead of out of it,
and the winds were stiffening. It was bound to be a long,
hard drive. That made him thirsty, as long drives always

did.

He saw a sign. APPLE COLA RIVER. "Hey, Dad—how

about stopping to get some of that apple cola?"

To his surprise. Dad listened. Maybe Dad was thirsty
too. He pulled to the side. "Everybody get out and get
anything done you want, because we won't be stopping

again soon," he said.

Oh. That was fair warning. They piled out and found

assorted bushes. Then David got a jug and went to dip out
all the apple cola he could. That was one of the good
things about Xanth: the way things were literal. If the sign
said apple cola, the river was made of it. Just as that river

YON ILL WIND   117

of blood in the mirror/Tapestry had been genuine hot led
giant blood, so copious it flowed for miles in a river down
to the sea. This river sparkled with its effervescence, and
sure enough, it was apple-flavored cola. He drank several
cups of it before he left, so as to keep the jug full.

He turned to return to the RV, and saw a fire. A series
of small flames was traveling along the ground between
him and the others. He wasn't worried, because they were
little enough to step right over, but he wondered how they
had come about. So he paused to look.

They were ants. Little red ants. "Fire ants!" he ex-
claimed, catching on.

"Wouldn't you know it," Sean said. "I found some
block parents." He gestured, and David saw several stone
blocks in the shape of people. That figured.

"Hey, look what I found," Karen called from the other
side. "Laughing flowers."

They looked, but didn't hear any laughing, though she
stood in a patch of pretty flowers. "Where?" David asked.

"Here." She picked a funny red one and brought it to
him. "Smell it."

He smelled it—and burst out laughing. The curious
thing was that he hadn't intended to; it just happened.

"What's so funny?" Sean asked suspiciously.

"Smell," Karen said, handing him a funny blue flower.

Sean sniffed it—and guffawed. Then looked as sur-
prised as David felt. Then he smiled. "I get it: these are
scents of humor."

"Yeah," Karen said, satisfied.

Woofer came running up. "Woof!" he said urgently,
pointing his nose toward the vehicle.

"Time's up," Sean said. "We have to get back in be-
fore Dad takes off without us."

They hurried back to the RV, because Dad didn't bluff
when he was in a hurry. The RV was already starting to
move, slowly. Of course. Mom wouldn't let him actually
leave them behind, but they got the message and ran the
last fifty feet.

118   PIERS ANTHONY

"Did you see what I saw?" Dad asked as they pulled
back onto the trollway. "The fly-fishing?"

"What is noteworthy about that?" Mom asked. She was
sitting up front now, her normal place when they didn't

need special instructions.

"They were frogs with fishing poles—casting for flies."
Mom laughed musically. "And you mean that literally,

of course."
"Of course."

"And do you know what I saw?" Mom asked in turn.
' 'What did you see?'' Dad dutifully inquired.
"A thim bull."
"A thimble?"
"A thim bull."
"A thin bull?"

"A male bovine in the shape of a thimble."
Dad laughed. "Grazing on pins and needles?"

"Of course."

David decided not to try to tell what the kids had seen,
because it simply wasn't remarkable, in this magic land.

"It's good to see them enjoying it," Sean murmured.
David realized that he was right. The parents had been
somewhat tight and terse recently, but now they were get-
ting into the spirit of Xanth. That was an excellent sign.

David looked around. The animals were snoozing.
Karen was fiddling with the deck of cards. Sean was sneak-
ing peeks at Chlorine's legs, where her skirt rode up care-
lessly high. Chlorine herself was looking out the window.
But then he saw her eyes flick back, and he realized that
she knew Sean-was looking at her. She was showing her
legs on purpose! Now, that was really interesting.

But all this left nothing much for David to do. He could
play solitaire, .but he was tired of that. So he considered
Nimby. Nimby was one pleasantly weird character. Really
a donkey-headed dragon in the shape of a young man who
never spoke. So would he—
Nimby turned to face him.
Could Nimby read his mind? Suddenly David wasn't

r

YON ILL WIND   119

bored at all. This could get really truly superinteresting.

Can you? he thought.

Nimby nodded.

Gee. But he'd better test it. What am I thinking of now?
He imagined a really ugly cartoon face.

Nimby brought out his pad and pencil—they just ap-
peared from nowhere—and drew the ugly face.

Gee, again. So they didn't have to speak to Nimby; they
could just think their questions to him. But maybe it
wouldn't be smart to announce that.

Nimby looked questioningly at him.

Because people like to keep secrets, David thought
loudly. Like Sean's looking up under Chorine's skirt, get-
ting a real charge from her legs, but he doesn't want any-
one else to know. And she's letting him do it, and SHE
doesn 't want him to know. So I guess you can pick up on
that... He paused, and Nimby nodded. But you better not
let them know, because they'd both be embarrassed to
death. Because they're both adults, or close to it. I guess
it's like that Adult Conspiracy that stops us kids from say-
ing words like "bleep." Nobody's supposed to know any-
thing. I guess if you peek into their minds, you'll see I'm
right.

Nimby paused, then nodde4, looking surprised. David
was pleased; he had taught the man who knew everything
something.

And Nimby nodded again.

David realized that he didn't have to work to project his
thoughts; Nimby could pick them up at conversational
level. But if he could read everybody's mind so well, why
did he seem so, well, innocent?

Nimby wrote a note and handed it to him.

David read it. / am aware of what is happening around
me, but there is so much that I don't think to do it unless
guided. There are so many thoughts that I usually pay no
attention. I also have trouble comprehending human mo-
tivations and emotions.

David couldn't resist giving some more advice. If

120   PIERS ANTHONY

Nimby wanted to seek mature human perspectives and mo-
tives, he should peek into Dad's and Mom's minds. If he
wanted hot adolescent thoughts, Sean was the one. For
naive childish attitudes, Karen would do. But for a central,
sensible viewpoint, David himself was the best source.

Nimby nodded, accepting it.

But David was really curious about one thing, and
maybe Nimby would give him the answer. He could ap-
preciate why Sean wanted to see under Chlorine's skirt, as
David himself found that intriguing. He really did want to
see someone's panties. But why was Chlorine letting him

see?

Nimby wrote a note. She has not been beautiful long,
and wishes to ascertain exactly how beauty works and
what its limits are. So she is practicing on Sean, who is
the closest approach to an ordinary man to which she has
current access. She believes that what works on him should
work somewhat similarly on other men.

Yes, it should. So it was really a scientific experiment
on her part; she didn't really care for Sean.

Nimby wrote a note. Scientific?

He didn't know about science? Okay, David would tell
Nimby all about Mundane science, if Nimby would tell
David exactly what he and Chlorine did overnight in their
room at the imp hotel.

She slept. I sat up and watched Xanth.

What, no mush? No Adult Conspiracy stuff? David
wasn't sure he believed that.

Chlorine has little romantic interest in a dragon ass.

A what?

My natural form. She seeks human interaction.

'Nimby didn't have to sleep?

My type doesn't sleep.

But Nimby was in human form now. Wasn't he as least
a little interested in what Chlorine looked like with her
clothing off? David was only twelve years old, but he'd
just love to see Chlorine bare naked nude.

/ fashioned her present form, and mine. I can in any

YON ILL WIND   121

event see her natural body at all times, as I can those of
everyone else. This has no novelty for me.

Evidently not. But with such powers, why did Nimby
hang around a dull family like them, and never speak?

There is a geis on me' to be silent until I have accom-
plished my mission.

Oh, like a knightly oath. David could see that. Still,
keeping constant company with a beautiful creature like
Chlorine, didn't Nimby get even a little curious about what
human love and bleep was all about?

/ would like to learn about human emotion, yes. It does
intrigue me. So far it does not seem very logical.

Well, that was because he was analyzing it instead of
feeling it. He was being like a teacher in school, who could
make anything deadly dull in an instant. Kids fell asleep
in Sex Ed class, after all. In real life people had emotions.
They cared. They got all heated up about some stupid ball
game, and they really got excited about boy-girl business.
Maybe Nimby should try that, sort of really get into the
feel of it.

/ lack the emotion of the human kind. How can I ex-
perience the feelings humans do?

Well, he might try tracking David's own emotion for a
while. David would do his best to feel things strongly, so
Nimby could get the idea.

Thank you. I shall do that.

Now I'll think through science, David thought. The way
I see it, it's the Mundane way of doing what you folk in
Xanth do by magic. Maybe they're the same, in the end,
just different ways. Do you know what a lever is?

And so they communed, as the RV zoomed on, and
Karen played her cards, and Sean and Chlorine played
their little games of show and look.

Somewhere along there it began to rain. At first David
thought he was imagining it, but then he was sure: the rain
was colored. Red, green, blue, and yellow drops struck the
windows. Was this normal?

Yes, for Xanth.- This storm is raining heavily ahead, so

r

122    PlERSANTHONY

that by the time we reach the next river, it will be flooded.
The Trolls are about to shut down the trollway as unsafe.
But we have to get to Imp Erial today, to help them

move their stuff.

/ will be able to guide you safely there, if you ask me.
"We'll sure do that," David said aloud, forgetting him-
self.

Karen looked up from her cards. "Do what?"
"Nimby says we're headed into a bad storm, and the
river will flood, and the trolls will shut down the high-
way."

"We can't afford to get detoured now," Dad said. "We

have to go on through."

"Nimby can show us how," David said.
"If this is a magic storm, he may have to," Dad replied

grimly.
The rain intensified, exactly as Nimby had written. Dad

slowed; he had to.

Nimby wrote a note. Stop here.

The road was not flooded, but Dad obeyed. Nimby got
out, assumed his dragon form, and trundled into the rain.

"He will return, I'm sure," Chlorine said.

And in a moment Nimby did. Clenched in his donkey
jaws was a branch with leaves and several fat bright cher-
ries.

"Cherries!" Karen exclaimed happily, reaching for

them. But Nimby held them away, shaking his head.

"Those look like cherry bombs," Chlorine said. "Only
they're bigger and fresher and clearer than any I've seen
before. I'd better hold them." She took the branch and
held it carefully, while Nimby reverted to his human form
and got back into the RV. He was, of course, soaking wet,
so Mom came back and bustled him into the lavatory for
another change of clothing. Mom just couldn't help moth-
ering folk.

"Cherry bombs grow on trees?" David asked, as the

vehicle started moving again.

"Everything grows on trees," Chlorine said. "Except

YON ILL WIND   123

people, and sometimes they do too." She sat down, and
her extreme care with the cherries caused her to forget how
her clothing was positioned. Twigs of the branch snagged
on both blouse and skirt. David saw Sean swallow. ' 'But
these must be a special variety."

"Why can't I eat a cherry?" Karen asked rebelliously.
She got that way when balked.

"Because they're cherry bombs, stupid," David in-
formed her. "They go boom." He felt enormously supe-
rior.

"Boom?"

"Yes, they explode when dropped or thrown," Chlorine
said. She managed to unsnag her skirt and then her blouse;

the material fell back into place, covering what it was sup-
posed 4o. David heard Sean resume breathing. That
exposure had really been by accident;

Actually, it had been a pretty good view. David had
begun to get interested in such things only in the last few
months, and suspected he would be more interested in the
next few months. Chlorine's body was fascinating. But so
was the notion of cherry bombs growing on trees. "Does
anything else do that?" he asked. "I mean, explode?"

"Certainly. Pineapples, for instance. They're more dan-
gerous than cherries, because they're larger."

Nimby emerged, dressed in more of Sean's clothes. But
it seemed Sean didn't care; he was too busy watching to
see if any more twigs snagged anything.

"Exactly what variety of cherry bombs are these?"
Chlorine asked him.

Nimby wrote a note. No one else seemed to notice how
his pad and pencil appeared from nothing when he needed
them, and disappeared similarly when he didn't. He
handed the note to David.

" 'These are new, clear cherry bombs,' " he read aloud.
" 'Much more powerful than the regular kind. We will
need them for the river.' "

"Nuclear cherry bombs!" Sean exclaimed. "I'll bet
they're powerful!"

124   PIERS ANTHONY

Then David noticed a PS to the note: When you saw
inside Chlorine's blouse—was that emotion?

David smiled. Yes it was, of a sort. But to fathom the
full effect of it. Nimby should have peeked into Sean's
mind. Because if David got slightly warm, Sean would be
a furnace. And considering Nimby's apparent age, he
should be reacting like Sean.

Nimby sat in a vacant seat. David was pleased to see
that he was now looking at Chlorine in much the way Sean
was: surreptitiously but persistently. He was learning.

"Uh-oh," Dad muttered in an ominous tone.

David peered ahead. There was a barricade with a sign
DETOUR. A troll stood by it, wearing a glowing helmet.

Dad drew up to the troll. "Where does the detour go?"
he asked.

' 'Back to the tall hassle grove, which is safer during the
storm."

"But we have to get to Imp Erial before nightfall," Dad
protested.

"The trollway may be impassable. There is flooding,
making it unsafe."

"Suppose we are willing to risk it?"

The troll stared dourly at him. "You may proceed at
your own risk. We will not be responsible for your
safety."

"But the road remains enchanted? We can't be attacked
on it?"

"The path remains enchanted. But water goes where it
will. The flood could cause you mischief regardless of the
enchantment."

"Understood. We'll proceed."

"Fool," the troll muttered, and stood aside.

"You're probably right," Dad agreed, driving forward.

David looked out. "What's that building, shaped like a
huge bottle?"

Chlorine looked. "Oh, that's a whinery."

Sean laughed. "A winery shaped like a bottle! It fig-
ures."

YON ILL WIND   125

Meanwhile the RV was forging through increasingly
tempestuous rain. Colored fluid streamed across the win-
dows and splashed up in fleeting rainbow patterns. Mist
from it drifted in the open slits of the almost-closed win-
dows.

Then some of that water seemed to get into David's
eyes, for they were flowing. He was crying—and he didn't
know why. He looked blearily around, and saw tears in
the eyes of all of them except Nimby. Even Dad was
blowing his nose. What was going on?

"Did we just drive through an onion field?" Karen
asked tearfully.

"I see a sign," Mom said. "It says we are coming to
the Crimea River."

"Cry me a river," Chlorine repeated. "That explains it.
The whinery must use that water for its whine. But we
must have crossed it on the way up. Why didn't we cry
then?"

"It wasn't flooding then," Dad replied. "I saw the wa-
ter passing low under the bridge. We were past it before
we got a whiff of it."

The vehicle slowed again. David saw why: they had
reached the flood. Tear-colored water surged across the
road. It looked too deep and swift to drive through.

"I don't understand how this flooded so deeply, so
quickly," Dad said. "There was ample clearance below
the bridge. It has been raining, but there has not been time
to raise the water level twenty feet."

Nimby wrote a note. He gave it to David, who read it
to the others. "Nimby says the goblins have dammed the
river just off the enchanted right-of-way. That's why it
backed up so fast."

"Goblins! I should have known. Do we have any way
to handle this?"

Nimby wrote another note. " "This's why I fetched the
new, clear cherry bombs,' " David read. " "They will de-
stroy the dam, so the water will newly clear the road.' "

126   PIERS ANTHONY                          -

\
"But won't the goblins attack us when we go there?"

Mom asked worriedly.

" 'Not if we remain within the enchanted path, and float
the cherries down to the dam,' " David read.

"But the cherries might go right over the dam before
they explode," Sean said. "We'll have to use a rope to

put them in place."

"Let's get to it," Dad said. At that point the rain eased,
becoming only a light, windy drizzle. Dad, Mom, Nimby,
Chlorine, and Sean got out. "You kids stay put," Sean

called back insultingly.

They sat in the open doorway in the side of the RV and
watched the adults depart. Colored mists were rising from
the landscape, making a pretty vertical pattern.

There was the cheerful clangor of a bell. "Hey, I want
to see that," Karen exclaimed, jumping out of the RV. "It

sounds like a cowbell."

"Hey, we're not supposed to go anywhere," David re-
minded her. "It's dangerous."

"On the enchanted path? Pooh." She ran on back along
the road, following the music of the bell. She liked bells,
and just had to see any that she heard. Tweeter was
perched on her hair, chirping wamingly, but she ignored

him.

David was torn between running after her and staying

put. He compromised. "Go after her. Woofer, and make

sure she's safe."

"Woof!" the dog agreed, and bounded out.
Then David heard the beat of a drum. It was a powerful,
throbbing sound that seemed to penetrate to the very center
of his head. What kind of drum was making it? David liked
drums, because they made a lot of noise with little effort.

Before he knew it, David was walking toward the sound.
But Midrange ran after him. "Meow!" the cat screeched

wamingly.

That jolted David back into responsibility. He was doing
the same thing Karen was, running after the first intriguing
sound. That was dangerous, because it was coming from

YON ILL WIND   127

the side, off the enchanted path. So he stopped. But he did
pause long enough to peer in the direction of the sound,
hoping to see the drum from here.

He was successful: it was in the shape of a huge ear. It
was an ear drum! No wonder it had such power over his
own ears.

He picked Midrange up and walked slowly back to the
RV. He hoped Karen wouldn't go off the enchanted path.
But she was a child; her judgment wasn't good.

The bell rang again. Surely she had seen it by now, and
should have returned. Where was she?

Finally he could stand it no longer. "I gotta find her,"
he said. "Midrange, you stay here and tell the folks where
I am, if they come back before we do." The cat nodded
and stretched out on the floor by the door.

David ran in the direction of the bell. Soon he found it:

a cow with a clapper, ringing as it walked. A cow bell.
What else? But Karen wasn't there. She must have gone
on beyond. Foolish girl!

He spied a big orange apelike creature wearing a placard
saying UTAN. Was it dangerous? This thing looked so com-
ical that maybe it was harmless. "Hey, Utan—have you
seen my stupid little sister?" he asked it.

The thing paused, then pointed the way David was go-
ing. So David ran on. Only after he was well beyond the
creature did he realize what it must be: an orange utan.

He saw a cat. "Hey, I told you to stay in the RV!" he
cried, advancing on it. The cat turned its face toward him.
Then David realized that it wasn't Midrange. It was a
strange cat—very strange. It wore a flat-brimmed hat and
a vest with the word ION on front. "Oh—sorry," David
said, embarrassed. "I thought you were my cat."

The cat stared witheringly at him and stalked off. Then
David realized its nature: it was a cat-ion, probably headed
for a catamount or catboat. "He must be going to get pos-
itively charged, before he lynx up with friends," David
muttered as he went on. This business of punning was
infectious.

128   PIERS ANTHONY

There was still no sign of Karen. He was very much
afraid she had wandered off the enchanted path. Should he
go and tell Mom? That would surely get him in trouble
for ever letting Karen get in trouble, though.

Something came flying though the air. David ducked,
afraid it was going to hit him, but it sailed on by. He got
a good glimpse of it as it passed. It looked like a painting.
Then another flew by, and a third. What was going on?

But a moment's thought brought the answer: "Art-
illery," he said. "Someone's hurling art at me."

"Kaa-ren!" he called. "KAA-RENN!" There was no
answer. Not even a woof. This was not a good sign.

He continued searching, but Karen was nowhere he
could see. That meant she must have gone off the en-
chanted path. Which meant in turn that he couldn't wait
any longer; he had to get help in a hurry.

He turned and ran back to the RV, half-afraid he would
discover it gone. But it remained, as solid and reassuring
as ever. Midrange remained on guard. "Anyone come
back?" he asked the cat, and received a shake of the head.
Well, at least that meant he would be able to report his
disaster himself, instead of seeming to be caught like a
fleeing rat. For whatever slight good that might do him.

"Where are the others?" he asked.

Midrange got up and came to him. David picked him
up and set him on his shoulder, his normal riding position.

"Meove llefft."

David bore left, following the course of the flooded
river. Now that he was closer to it, his eyes were tearing.
He couldn't stop them, so he just kept blinking to clear
his vision. Soon he came to Mom, who was watching Sean
tie a framework fashioned of driftwood together. Mom was
holding the cherry branch somewhat nervously, and tears
were streaming down her face. His own eyes had been
flowing, but he had ignored it after the first few minutes.
Beyond them the rushing river had pooled into a small
lake, with what looked like a dam fashioned from brush
and junk.

YON ILL WIND   129

David hesitated to give her his news; she might drop
the branch. So he sort of slid by it. "Mom, there's a prob-
lem. Where's Dad?"

It didn't work. "What problem?" she demanded
sharply, turning her swollen eyes on him.

David wiped his eyes on his sleeve. ' 'I, ah, Karen went
out, and—"

"Out alone?" Her voice was getting shrill. That was
not a good sign.

"Woofer and Tweeter went with her."

"Jim!" she called imperatively.

There was no answer. But then Chlorine and Nimby
appeared. "He's spying on the goblins," Chlorine reported
through her bleary visage. Her eyes looked as if they were
trying to cry, but not succeeding, so they were turning red
instead. It probably felt like dry heaves. "If he calls,
they'll know he's there. Can we take a message?"

Mom considered. "No. Maybe you can help another
way. Karen is lost. Could you find her?"

"Oh, sure. Nimby will know where she is." She turned

to Nimby, who alone had no trouble with his eyes. "She's
all right?"

Nimby nodded.

"Then let's get there in a hurry. You turn dragon, and
I'll run along behind you. She knows what we look like,
so she won't be frightened."

Nimby became the weird dragon, and they ran off in
Karen's direction.

Mom turned to David. "You let her go?" There was
ice in her tone despite the tears in her eyes. He wondered
whether Tier tears were freezing into sleet as they fell.

"She wouldn't stop for me. Mom," he pleaded tear-
fully. "She heard this cow bell, and she just went."

Mom nodded. "That is the way she is," she agreed,
sniffing. Then she smiled, tightly. So she wasn't blaming
him. Nevertheless, David felt guilty.

"David, I don't want to go anywhere while I'm guard-
ing the cherries," Mom said in a moment. "Would you

130   PIERS ANTHONY
go carefully and see if you can see what your father is

doing?"

'' Sure.'' He walked in the direction Chlorine and Nimby

had come from. Soon he saw Dad—surrounded by ugly   ,
little manlike creatures with big heads and big feet: gob-
lins. They had spied him, and he was probably off the
enchanted path, because they were closing in purposefully.

"Dad!" David cried. "Watch out!" But it was too late.
The goblins burst across the last little distance, and
swarmed all over Dad. He tried to fight them off, but he
was a physics prof, not a warrior, and they were many. In

a moment they had him helpless.
David knew he had to do something, but he didn't know

what. The goblins were carrying Dad away. There were
too many of them for anyone to fight. Dad should never
have gone beyond the limit of the enchanted path. Just as
Karen shouldn't have. Did the goblins have her too?
Nimby could have warned him—but Nimby was off fetch-
ing Karen. Because David hadn't stopped her from leaving

the RV.

"Mom! Sean!" he cried, running back. "They've got

Dad!"

"Oh!" Mom exclaimed, looking faint.

"One chance," Sean said grimly as he blinked away his
tears. "This notation's too slow. Give me the bombs."

Mom handed the branch of cherries to him. Her eyes
were staring as well as tearing; David had never seen her

so distraught.

"See if you can distract the goblins from me," Sean

said. He walked purposefully toward the dam.
"From you? Not from Dad?"

"Right. Do it."
Sean seemed to know what he was doing, so David did

his best. He started running and screaming and waving his
arms. "Hey, goblins!" he cried. "You can't catch

meeee!"

"David!" Dad called, spying him dispite his own dis-

YON ILL WIND   131

tress. Parents were like that. "Get back on the enchanted
path!"

But David didn't. He was terrified, but he had to distract
the goblins, and this was the only way he knew how. So
he made an Adult Conspiracy gesture at them and ran on.
It probably looked like a mere bleep to them, but it did
stir them up. They charged after him.

Unfortunately, goblins turned out to be swifter runners
than he had figured. They could run faster than he could!
He dodged and ducked, but soon they caught up and laid
their grubby hands on him. Instead of rescuing Dad, he
had gotten himself caught. Some help he had been.

"What possessed you to do that?" Dad demanded as
the goblins hauled them together.

"Silence, morsels!" the goblin chief cried, wiping his
eyes. "Or we'll cook you slow instead of fast."

Cook them? Suddenly David realized just how awful a
fate they faced. All because he had let Karen get loose,
then had taken Nimby away from helping Dad, so that Dad
got caught by the goblins. David deserved to be cooked!

There was a deafening BOOM behind them, followed
by a great rushing sound.

"The dam!" a goblin screamed. "The dam went!"

Sean had blown the dam! He must have gotten close
while the goblins were distracted, and thrown the cherry
branch on it. Now the water was bursting out and down—
and the goblins were below it. The great frothing surge of
it was already bearing down on them. They let man and
boy go, and fled.

"Run for the road, son!" Dad cried.

For sure! They ran together through the flying froth,
while the goblins ran the opposite way, fleeing the water.
The goblins weren't being smart; they had panicked. Or
maybe the water represented more of a danger to them,
because they were so much shorter than human beings.
That was fine with David.

They made it to the enchanted section. The water level
was dropping; the river seemed to be chasing after the

132   PIERS ANTHONY

goblins. Maybe it was getting back at them for damming
it. David hoped they all drowned.

Mom was waiting where she had been, only now the
water had receded, and her tears were slowing. Dad ran
up to her and embraced her. It had been one close call!

Then Mom thought of something else. "Where's
Sean?"

"He must've been caught by the water, when the dam
blew," David said, horrified. "He just wanted to get that
dam, so as to save you. Dad."

"Oh, no." Dad looked down to where the scattered
remnants of the dam lay. There was no sign of Sean.

"Jim—" Mom said in That Tone.

"I'll find him," Dad said. He ran back'toward the dam.

Then David saw Chlorine. "Karen won't come with
us," she said, her eyes still red but dry. "She—what hap-
pened here?" She stared at the diminished water, aston-
ished.

"Sean blew the-dam," David said. "But now we don't
know where he is."

"Oh, he's all right," Chlorine said. "Nimby gave me a
message to say to you. That Sean is on his way. I didn't
know what it meant."

"He must have been washed away by the water," David
said. "So now he has to make his way back from wherever
he got washed to. But he's okay."

"That must be it," Mom agreed, evidently relieved.
"Now, what's this business with Karen?"

"She's been deceived by wraiths," Chlorine explained.
"Now she thinks we're wraiths, and she won't come with
us. Nimby doesn't know what to do, because he doesn't
really understand minds, just things."

"We must go to her immediately," Mom said, freshly
alarmed.

"I think I'd better wait here for Sean," Dad said. "He
may be physically sound, but he'll need a familiar face to
orient on."

YON ILL WIND   133

"But I'm not sure you're physically sound," Mom pro-
tested. "Those goblins—"
"Didn't hurt me," Dad said.
Mom turned to Nimby. "True?"
Nimby shook his head.

"That's what I thought," Mom said severely. "You
must be bruised and bitten all over. Let me see."

Dad hesitated, and David realized that Dad probably was
battered, but didn't want the children to know. "I'll go

fetch Karen," he said. "She knows me too. It's my fault
she got lost."

"It wasn't your fault," Mom said, and he was glad to
be officially exonerated again. "But thank you for help-
ing."

"Let's go," David said. Indeed, Nimby, knowing his

mind, was already starting to move, and Chlorine with
him.

The landscape became weird, even compared to what it
had been. The trees seemed to be growing sideways or
even upside down, and there were blobs of water floating
haphazardly. But in a moment he realized that they were
moving toward the three people. "What are those puddles
doing out of their beds?" David asked, ducking to avoid
one that came too close.

Nimby's pad and pencil appeared. He wrote a note.
Chlorine took it and read it. " 'Ponds come.' "

"Pond scum?" David asked, making a face. Unfortu-
nately, the face detached from his head and floated away,
distorting grotesquely. He clapped his hands to the front
of his head and found that his regular face was still there;

it was only a copy that was drifting away.

"Ponds come to us," she said carefully. "I think they're
getting confused as the magic dust increases. We may all
suffer from its madness as we get farther into the storm."

"I think I'm suffering from it now," David said, as the
face copy collided with a pond and made a splash.

They encountered a man whose face was odd in another
way: the lower part of it was transparent. David could see

134   PIERS ANTHONY

his tongue and teeth inside, and they were also transparent.
The man never paused to greet them; he hurried on to

wherever he was going.

"That man had a glass jaw," Chlorine said, surprised.

"I never saw one before."

Neither had David. But there were stranger things ahead.
One of the floating ponds had settled into a glade, and
there were creatures in and by it, facing away from him.
One had the head and arms of a human being, the forelegs
and torso of a horse, and the tail of a fish. Another had
the head of a person, the wings of a vulture, and the body

of a serpent.

David knew he shouldn't pause, but his curiosity over-
came him. "Say, if it's okay to ask—what are you?" he

called to the two creatures.

Both turned to face him, presenting full pairs of breasts.
"We are double-crossbreeds," the one with the fishtail
said. "I am a cenmaid, centaur/mermaid for long; my
friend's a harga, or harpy/naga."

"But—but—I'm a child!" David said stupidly, staring
at their fronts. "I'm not supposed to see stuff like that."
Which was just exactly what he hadn't wanted to say; the

madness had fouled him up.

The two lovely faces smiled. "Don't be concerned," the
harga said. "We are merely dreams brought to you by our
friend the cenmare, a centaur/night mare crossbreed,
'Bye." Both waved, and vanished.

David stared at the space they had vacated. "Did—did
you see that?" he asked Chlorine.

"See what?" she asked.

So it was true: he had dreamed of those strange cross-
breeds. Well, at least it meant he would not be in trouble
for violating that Adult Conspiracy. But he wished he
could have seen more of those creatures before they van-
ished.

They reappeared. "You do?" the cenmaid inquired, in-
haling.

YON ILL WIND   135

"Gee," David said. "Can you be my dreams any time
I want?"

"Certainly, while the madness lasts." the harga replied,
brushing out her hair and feathers. "Just desire to see us."

"I will!" he promised. "But right now I have to go
rescue my little sister."

"You had better hurry," the cenmaid said. "She's about
to get in trouble." The creatures faded.

David wasn't sure how much he should trust dreams,
but he took the advice to heart. "Can we hurry?" he asked,
breaking into a run.

"Certainly," Chlorine agreed, pacing him. "Say, it's
nice being healthy; I couldn't keep this up in my natural
state."

David glanced at her. "You would drive Sean crazy, if
he saw yon running."

"Really? I must be sure to run for him."

They found Karen perched in a fork of an enormous
tree. The tree's leaves looked like swatches of cloth, and
its twigs looked like pins and needles. Its trunk seemed to
be made of overlaying patches.

"She must be all right," Chlorine said. "That's a tree-
mend-ous."

"I can see it's very big," David said. "But she could
still be in trouble.

"No, a tree-men-dous mends anyone who climbs into
it," Chlorine explained. "There's one not far from my
home village. She chose the right tree to get into."

"But she won't be safe much longer," he-said, remem-
bering the dream-creatures' warning.

"How can you know that?" Chlorine asked. But then
she saw Nimby's nod. "I guess you do know, though. But
she wouldn't come for us. She thought we were wraiths."

"What's a wraith?" David asked.

"An apparition, usually of a living person. But wraiths
aren't real; they may just lead someone into mischief. Be-
cause the victim thinks the person is real, and means well,
while the wraith doesn't mean well. Usually we don't see

136   PIERS ANTHONY

many wraiths, but the madness must be giving them more

power."

David had learned enough about Xanth to be cautious.
Things weren't always what they appeared to be. Suppose
this wasn't Karen, but a wraith trying to fool him into
thinking he was saving her? He had seen a scary movie
once about a child who got stolen by a vampire or some-
thing, who had left an animated doll in her place, and the
parents never knew she was gone. The only way to tell the
difference was that the doll had perfect manners.

"Try calling her," he said.

Chlorine did. "Karen! Karen, it's Chlorine. Please come

with us."

"Get away from me!" Karen screamed, climbing higher

in the tree. "You're just another fake!"

' 'At least she had the wits to realize she -was being
fooled," Chlorine murmured. "But now she can't tell
when she's not being fooled."

"I can fix that," David said. He approached the tree.
"Karen! Get down from there before Mom catches you
and grounds you for a week, you stupid little snot!"

"David!" she cried gladly. She came down so fast she
almost tumbled. She leaped for him and plastered a sloppy

kiss on his cheek.

"Stop slobbering on me, you brat," he said. "We've

got to get back to Mom in a hurry."

"Yes, brother dear," she said. Then she aimed a kick
at his shin, but he got his leg out of the way in time. He
knew her ways, as she knew his.

"Sean blew the dam and got washed away," he said.
"But Nimby says he's okay. But there's danger coming

here, so we've got to move."

"Are these really Chlorine and Nimby?" she asked.
"Chlorine was trying to make me go into a dark cave. I
heard something big breathing in there. I grabbed her hand,
and there wasn't any. That's when I freaked out."

"Well, grab her hand now," he said.

She hesitated, but Chlorine extended her hand, so Karen

YON ILL WIND   137

took it. Her face lighted when she found that the hand was
solid. "I'm sorry I doubted you—if it was you, last time,"
she said.

"It was me last time," Chlorine agreed. "But you did
the right thing, waiting until you were sure. But how were
you sure it was David, and not another wraith?"

"The wraiths seemed nice," she said. "David's never
nice unless he has to be."

Suddenly David stopped. "The pets!" he exclaimed.
"Woofer and Tweeter were with you. Where are they?"

"I sent them to fetch you," Karen said. "Isn't that how
you found me?"

"No. They never reached us."

They stared at each other, horrified.

8
CATATONIC

Midrange stretched and stood as he saw David re-
turn. Karen was with him, so that had worked
out. But where were Woofer and Tweeter?

David rushed up to him. "Midrange, we've got a prob-
lem. Nimby says Sean will be back here in twenty minutes,
and they'll have to take off then, or the madness will make
it impossible to reach Imp Erial tonight. So we'll have to
go. But Nimby can't tell where the other pets are, because
something is hiding them. There are phantoms of hundreds
of dogs and birds looking just like them, and Nimby can
see them all, but he can't tell which ones are the right ones.
Not without going to them, and that would take too long,
because the chances of finding the right ones in time are
too small. But he says he can rescue them if he knows

138   PIERS ANTHONY

which ones they are. He found two pieces of reverse
wood—do you know what that is? Well, neither do I. But
he thinks it will help. If we can find them in time. Do you
think you could find them?"

Midrange was insulted. Of course he could find them,
if he chose to. It was just a matter of sniffing them out.

"But I gotta tell you," David rushed on. "If you look
for them, and get lost yourself, then we'll have to go with-
out you too. And Nimby thinks there's danger, because
whatever is making all those phantom dogs and birds must
be trying to hide them from us, and it will try to stop you
from reaching them—or it will try to capture you too. So
if you don't want to do it—"

Midrange knew that if he didn't do it, David would
think it was because he lacked courage. He didn't care for
that indignity. So he would rescue the mutt and bird. He
had known them for some time, after all. He got ready to
sniff them out.

"But Nimby does have a way to help you—by doing
the same thing back to it that it's doing to us. Making
copies. He found some catatonic you can take that'll make
you spin off hundreds of copies of yourself. You'll be a
real copycat! Then the thing won't know which one is the
real you, and you should be able to get through without
getting caught yourself. We think Woofer and Tweeter are
caught in a cave, because the wraiths were trying to get
Karen to go into a cave, and if she had, she'd probably
also be caught now. So maybe look for a cave—and watch
out. If you can find them within fifteen minutes, even if
you do get caught yourself. Nimby can come and rescue
you in his dragon form. He thinks there's nothing around
here that can handle a dragon that size. Then he'll bring
you back and we'll catch the RV and get on our way.

Okay?"
Midrange nodded. This was a challenge worthy of his

feline mettle.

"Okay, here's the tonic," David said, giving him a cap-
sule with awful-colored ick sloshing inside it. "Each time

YON ILL WIND   139

you make a sudden move, another copy will spin off and
look and act just like you, but it's really illusion. It'll go
seek one .of the dog or bird illusions, and when they meet,
the two will go poof, canceling each other out. Under-
stand?"

Midrange nodded. He took the ugly capsule in his mouth
and swallowed it. The thing was weird, but not incapaci-
tating. Then he bounded off, sniffing the air for Woofer's
canine doggy scent. He couldn't sniff out a trail as well as
Woofer could, but he could do well enough. There was
also Tweeter's smell, good enough to eat; that would help.
It might take him a few minutes to orient, but he would
get them.

He bounded in the direction he had last seen Woofer.
That trail was still fresh, as it had been only an hour or
so. He could see the dog's claw marks in the ground, and
smell the canine odor. Not only was it doggy, it was spe-
cifically Woofer. No problem there.

But what about Tweeter? The bird had been riding on
Karen's head, so the scent was very faint, and overridden
by Karen's much stronger human traces. But that should
improve when Tweeter left his associate and went with
Woofer. Each of them had a pet human child; they had
settled on that long ago, to make sure no child felt ne-
glected. Because children were generally more fun than
adult humans; they were more active, got into more mis-
chief, and spent more time in the dirt. So Tweeter's pet
was Karen, the smallest going to the smallest. Midrange
had David in the middle, and Woofer tried to keep'Sean
out of trouble. If Woofer had been with Sean, Sean prob-
ably wouldn't have gotten swept away by the dam burst.
Then he had muffed the rescue of Karen. Woofer just
wasn't the most competent dog extant. But of course, no
dog was really smart. That was why cats existed: there
needed to be a gifted animal in every family, to keep it
functional. But when a family scattered to different locales,
it was hard to keep up with all its parts. That was why
there was so much trouble now. Humans were incredibly

140   PIERS ANTHONY

dense about the need to remain close enough together for

proper supervision.

It was time to test the phantom cat phenomenon. Mid-
range jerked to the side—and an image of himself fis-
sioned off and bounded straight ahead. It made no sound
and had no odor, but it did look solid, and it ran well. It
even maneuvered around a tree. It would do to fool the
dull senses of a human observer. Maybe even an animal
observer, from a distance.

He jerked again, and another nondescript cat peeled off,
running in the direction he had been going. So he could
steer them in any direction. Good enough.

Suddenly he saw a dog. Woofer! He bounded toward
the canine—then realized there was no smell. This was a
clone, one of the phantom dogs put out to confuse the

issue.

So Midrange jerked aside, sending a clone cat ahead to

intercept the thing. He hid behind a rock, to watch the
encounter. This just might be interesting.

The clone cat leaped right into the phantom dog—and
both vanished in a puff of nothing. The two illusions had
destroyed each other. Exactly as they were supposed to.

Very well. He would send more cats after more dogs.
The more phantom dogs he eliminated, the easier it would
be to locate the real one. He jerked and dodged frantically,
sending clones bounding off in all directions, a veritable
horde. Then he resumed the sniffing of Woofer's trail.

He saw a bird. Tweeter! But even as he spied it, so did
a clone. The phantom cat leaped, catching the bird in his
mouth—and disappeared. Two more images had canceled

each other out.

It served the cat clone right, Midrange thought. The
point was to rescue Tweeter, not to consume him. Birds
were fair prey, but Tweeter was a friend. Friends did not

eat friends.

He came to a large tree with funny leaves. The smells

of animal, bird, and child were strong here. So this was
where Karen had fled the phantoms. So it should be pos-

YON ILL WIND   141

sible to follow her trail back to the cave she had not. en-
tered. But would that be the one where Woofer was?
Surely the dog couldn't be that stupid, to enter the same
cave they had avoided before. So that was probably not
the one. There just wasn't time to check every prospect;

five minutes were already gone.

So Midrange sniffed out Woofer's fresher scent, going
in another direction. Now Tweeter's smell joined it, still
faint, but clearer than before, because he had been flying
beside the dog, low to the ground. Every so often he
'perched on a stalk or twig, and the scent became complete
at those places. This was a much easier trail to follow.

But Midrange did not forget caution. The hound and
bird had walked blithely into some kind of trap, and the
cat was not eager to walk into the same trap. So once he
was sure of the trail, he left it, looping around, slinking
behind rocks and brush and trees as if stalking prey. Every
so often he let fly another clone, to further confuse any
possible watcher. Then he would sneak up on the trail and
verify it in passing, as if not noticing it. It would be hard
for any observer to tell exactly what he was up to.

He came to a deep crevice. The trail came to the brink
and followed along it. Presumably the dog had found a
place to cross it. The thing was too wide to jump. So how
was Midrange to cross it, without slavishly following the
exact route of the hound? Which he didn't want to do,
because that might be right where the trap had sprung.

He sniffed around, and found some flowers. What good
were flowers? So he went on. Then something snarled at
him from the brush. Midrange leaped onto the nearest tree
trunk.

He looked down, and saw that it was only a little doglike
creature. "What are you?" he demanded, annoyed because
he had been affrighted while off-guard.

"I'm a snarl," the little canine growled. "Can't you tell,
pussy?"

This creature was not endearing himself. For reasons he
didn't care to go into, Midrange did not like to be called

142   PIERS ANTHONY

pussy, especially in that tone. "No, I can't tell; you look
more like a yelp to me," he retorted. "Where did you
come from—a sick tangle tree?"

"Not quite. I was brushed out of a girl's hair. But she
dropped me and left before I could adopt her as a pet. I'm
not pleased. That's why I remain in a snarl." He glanced
at Midrange. "I don't suppose you're looking for a pro-
prietor?"

Midrange opened his mouth to say something truly
catty, but caught himself. This creature just might be use-
ful. It obviously wasn't a phantom. "I may be looking for
a companion," he said carefully. "If he's useful."

"Useful?"

"I'm looking for a big dog and a small bird. Have you
seen any such?"

"Actually I did, about two barks ago. They were fol-
lowing a wraith bleep."

"A wraith what?"

"The humans have this stupid Adult Conspiracy that
forbids them to say the name of a female dog in the pres-
ence of a child. Since I derive from the snarled hair of a
child, I, too, am bound by it. Idiotic, I know, but there it

is."

Oh. "You did see them? Which, way did they go?"
"That way." The snarl pointed his pug nose. "The
wraith was one extremely fetching bleep, I must say; if
she'd been of my species, I would have followed her too.
She even smelled right. The bird protested, but couldn't

stop him."

Which seemed to be one difference between a wraith
and a phantom. The wraiths could emulate creatures com-
pletely, except for their solidity. So Woofer, the big male
idiot, had followed her, and Tweeter had had to go along
lest they be separated.

Midrange decided to trust Snarl a bit, mainly because it
might help him get on with his mission. "I need to cross
this cleft, but I can't see a way. Do you know a way?"

YON ILL WIND   143

"Certainly. Just use one of those daisies there." The
nose pointed at the flowers.

"What good are they?"

"They're upsy-daisies. They grow into ladders to help
you up, if you pick them and invoke them by saying their
name."

Well, now. Midrange went to the flowers and picked
one. He carried it to the edge of the crack and set it down.
"Upsy-daisy," he said.

The flower expanded. Its petals became spokes. They
formed into a growing ladder. It was just long enough to
bridge the chasm.

"Help me put this across, "Midrange said.

"I shall." Snarl took part of the ladder in his teeth, and
Midrange pawed at the end, and they managed to swing it
awkwardly around until it fell across the gap. Then they
walked somewhat gingerly across the rungs. Midrange, of
course, had excellent feline balance, but Snarl didn't. He
almost fell, but fortunately his legs poked through inside
the ladder, and he was able to scramble back up.

They started walking along the far side, in the direction
Woofer had gone. "Let me know if you pick up the trail,"
Midrange said. He could pick it up himself, but wanted to
see whether the animal was playing straight with him. One
of the smarter qualities of cats, of the multitude of good
ones, was not to trust anyone too readily.

Every so often Midrange flung off another clone cat,
though nobody seemed to be spying on them. "That's a
nice magic talent you have," Snari said admiringly. Mid-
range didn't bother to clarify how he had come by it; the
little canine had no need to know.

Soon they came to'a narrowing of the chasm, and sure
enough, the trail resumed there. "Got it!" Snarl said.

Good enough; the canine was playing it straight. "Let's
loop around and intercept it farther along," Midrange said,
not explaining why. Snarl agreed; he seemed to be quite
companionable, now that he had a companion. He proba-
bly would have made that little girl a good associate.

T

144   PIERS ANTHONY

Then Midrange thought of something. "I'm new to
Xanth," he confessed. "From Mundania, actually. How is
it that we animals learned to talk?"

"Everyone talks, in Xanth," Snarl explained. "Because
of the magic. And the magic's getting much stronger now,
for some reason."

"Because of the storm blowing magic dust in," Mid-
range said. "But soon it will be too strong, and there will
be madness."

"You have learned a lot," Snarl said admiringly.

"Not enough. We animals always could understand
most of what the human beings were saying, and we un-
derstood each other, in a general way. But since coming
into Xanth, we have all grown much smarter, and now we
can talk fluently with each other and with other creatures.
We couldn't do that before."

"It's because of the Xanth common languages," Snarl
said. "I have heard, though it surely isn't true, that in
Mundania humans speak all different languages, and can't
understand each other at all. The same must be true for
animals and plants. In Xanth, all humans speak the human
language, and all animals of a certain type speak their own
language. That is, all mammals have one language, and all
reptiles have one, and all insects have one, and so on.
There, are dialects, so that the way I speak isn't quite the
same as you, and we'd both have trouble with a unicorn,
and centaurs don't even bother with mammalian; they pre-
fer to speak human. It has nuances that others don't, be-
cause humans are always talking. You surely had trouble
understanding the bird."

"I did," Midrange agreed. "If I hadn't known him well,
he would have been unintelligible. So it was because he
spoke avian."

"Yes. Insects are harder yet, and plants—it's not worth
bothering. Dragons aren't too bad, though they have a bar-
barous accent. But it's not safe to get close to a dragon
anyway."

This was very interesting; it clarified what had been hap-

YON ILL WIND   145

pening to them. But this business about dragons—"Are
there many dragons around?"

"They're all over. Fire-breathers, smokers, and steam-
ers; winged, land, and water; big, larger, and huge. They're
always hungry. They're sort of the top of the food chain.
Best thing is to stay away from them."

So Midrange had already gathered. But now they had to
stop talking, because they were coming to a cave. The trail
entered it. He even caught the faint perfume of the bleep
who had lured Woofer in. Thanks to Snarl's help, it had
taken him only another five minutes. Now he had five
more minutes to assess the situation and summon Nimby.

' 'Is there another way into this cave?'' he asked the dog.

"Probably. I'll sniff out one." The little canine circled
to the right, sniffing.

So Midrange circled to the left. Soon he found a wind-
ing aperture just about right for slinking through. So he
slunk through it. It was dark inside, but he was comfortable
with that. It was another of the myriad ways in which cats
were superior to other creatures.

He sniffed, and smelled Woofer. That helped him nav-
igate the various side crevices, coming ever closer without
going directly there. Because there still could be more
trouble than he wanted, if He got discovered.

Then he heard a yip. That was Snarl! The dog must have
entered by another passage. Why had he given himself
away?

Midrange slunk closer, until he could see into the central
chamber. There were Woofer and Tweeter, just lying and
perching there. They weren't even trying to escape, though
nothing held them.

Snarl slunk in to join them, his tail between his legs.
He was definitely unhappy, but he was obeying someone.
Yet there was no one there. Just a pile of metallic junk in
the center of the cave, faintly glowing.

Then Snarl spoke. "I did not come alone. There is a cat
who is coming to rescue the other dog and bird."

146   PIERS ANTHONY
Why, the little traitor! He was blabbing the mission!

Had Midrange trusted a spy?

"The cat is coming in another way," Snarl said. "In

fact, he is crouching behind you."

That did it. Midrange leaped up, tiger fashion. "Woofer!
Tweeter! Get out of here!" he cried. "I'll pounce on it."

Something swiveled around to face him. It was a TV
screen, with icons on it. One picture expanded: a cat going

splat against an invisible wall in midair.

SPLAT! Midrange suited action to picture, and fell to

the floor in a heap.

Outraged, he gathered himself together for another

pounce. But a picture appeared on the screen, showing a
cat wading through supersticky dense glue, and he found
he could move only excruciatingly slowly.

A picture of a dog talking appeared. With that. Woofer
began to speak. "This is a machine called Sending, who
was originally a program animating Magician Grey Mur-
phy's Mundane computer. He helped Grey and Princess
Ivy go to Xanth, provided they took him along. Now he
is scheming to conquer Xanth. This will take time—a few
thousand years—but he is patient. He is in the process of
assembling a group of creatures and things to do his bid-
ding. The recent influx of magic dust has enabled him to
act more strongly. Thus he was able to lure me into his
cave, though he failed with Karen. That's all right; he'll
get her and the other humans when the magic intensifies

enough."

"But how does he do it?" Midrange asked.

"Sending has the power to change reality in his im-
mediate vicinity," Woofer said. "Just as his sire. Corn
Pewter, does. Pewter prints whatever he wishes reality to
be, and it is then true, near him. Only Sending works better
with icons, which he expands into pictures when he wants
to invoke them. So he has made us captive by luring us
into his ambiance, then invoking magic icons to control
us. It is not possible to oppose his will, because he defines

will here."

YON ILL WIND   147

"That's why I had to blab about your mission," Snarl
said. "The icon made me. I'm sorry."

Now that Midrange had been snared by Sending, he un-
derstood how it was. "You had no choice," he said. But
he realized that he, Midrange, had better exert some
choice, because otherwise the wicked machine could force
him to blab about Nimby coming to the rescue. He had to
distract Sending a few more minutes. Maybe the machine
was subject to flattery. "I thought I would find Woofer
and Tweeter and rescue them. I guess I was pretty fool-
ish."

An icon expanded into a picture of a clown laughing.
Sending thought it was very funny. "But instead I just got
caught myself," he continued. "But I'm curious about one
thing: how did you get those wraiths to help you, by luring
folk into your cave? They were running far beyond your
ambiance." Midrange was sure of that, because otherwise
Sending would simply have changed reality for miles
around, and made all creatures and people serve him.

The talking dog picture appeared again. "He explained
that to us while we waited for others to try to rescue you,
and thus to fall into his power," Woofer said. "He made
a deal with the wraiths, that if they helped him achieve
power, he would enable them to achieve solid form again.
They are eager to gain some substance, so they cooper-
ate."

"Substance?" Midrange asked. "How is that possi-
ble?"

"It is our substance they will be given," Woofer said
sadly. "The wraiths will inhabit us and take over our bod-
ies and minds."

"But this is barbaric!" Midrange protested.

The laughing clown appeared on the screen.

Then there was a sound outside. A wraith hurried in.
"A damsel and a dragon!" it cried silently. "She's lovely,
but it has a donkey head. It forged right to this cave.
They're coming in!"

148   PIERS ANTHONY

The screen faced Midrange. A picture of a cat talking
appeared.

Suddenly Midrange was compelled to tell all he knew.
"It is Chlorine and the dragon ass called Nimby," he
blabbed. "They are coming to nullify you and rescue us.
I have been stalling, to give them time to get here unob-
served. They have two pieces of reverse wood."

The screen flickered violently. Evidently the mention of
reverse wood bothered the machine. Then the image of a
door slamming closed appeared.

Too late. A wooden ball rolled into the cave and came
to rest before the screen.

A picture showed dogs, cat, and bird hastily shoving the
ball out of the cave. But before they could act, the ball fell
into two parts. And Sending's screen went dim.

"Let's get out of here before he recovers," Midrange
said. The four of them, freed from the machine's power,
charged out of the cave.

There was the striped dragon, with the lovely young
woman. She was still leaning forward, evidently just
having rolled the ball into the cave. "Hi, fellows," she
said brightly. "The two pieces of reverse wood nullified
each other. But when they fell apart, they nullified Send-
ing. He'll be helpless until that wood gets moved out of
his cave—which will be hard to do. Now we must hurry,
because the moving house is about to start moving."

They hurried. All of them ran, following the dragon,
who knew where they were going. Snarl came along too.

They made it to the road, panting. There was the RV,
just starting to move. The water had all drained away, leav-
ing the surface drivable. "They don't see us!" Chlorine
gasped.

Nimby snapped up a piece of wood, held it between his
donkey teeth, lifted his head, and gave what sounded like
a whistle in ducktalk. It was an awful noise. But it worked;

the vehicle slowed.

"Nimby—you can talk!" Chlorine cried as they raced
up to it. But the dragon shook his head, and Midrange

YON ILL WIND   149

knew why: he had made a sound, but it wasn't talking.
The whistle had been artificial, because of air blown past
the piece of wood, and meaningless, except in the sense

that it signaled the whistler's presence. It was just noise,
not talk.

Chlorine realized that after two-thirds of a moment.
"You made it, but it wasn't you. I should have realized."
She smiled. "So I'm not a whistler's mother. I'll survive."

They got there, and Nimby changed back to his man-
form. Woofer and Tweeter scrambled into the RV, and
Chlorine followed. But Midrange paused. "What about
you. Snarl?" he asked the dog.

Snarl hesitated. "Nobody here needs a companion?" he
asked plaintively.

The dog had helped Midrange accomplish his mission
in time. Generosity was not really Midrange's forte, but
there was an implied deal: companionship for help. "Get
on in," he told the dog. "We'll figure something out."

Nimby had paused. Now he picked up Snarl, whose legs
were too short to navigate the steep step up, and set him

on the floor inside. Then Midrange bounded in, and Nimby
came last.

"You did it!" David cried, picking Midrange up and
hugging him. "You rescued them. I knew you could!
'Cause you're my cat."

Disgusting display of sentiment, but somehow Midrange
wasn't entirely displeased. He extricated himself after a
moment. He had indeed done the job, though perhaps some
small credit should be given to the catatonic medicine, and
to Snarl, and to Nimby also.

The RV was moving, gathering speed. Snarl was in
Chlorine's lap, peering out a window, fascinated by this
magic vehicle. Suddenly he barked. "It's her!"

What now? Midrange looked out. There was a discon-
solate dark-haired girl walking by the edge of the road.
She seemed to be looking for something. "Who is 'her'?"
Midrange asked the dog.

150   PIERS ANTHONY

"My ideal companion! The girl whose hair formed me.
Maybe she's looking for me."

Midrange wasn't sure about that, but it was worth a try.
He ran up to the front, where Jim-Dad was driving.
"Meop!" he said, in as plain human as he could muster.

Jim-Dad looked at him. "You want me to pick up that
girl? We don't have room for—"

"Mneo," Midrange said. "Meust meop." He wished
his cat tongue could form the clumsy human words better.
He was trying to say, "No—just stop."

Jim-Dad sighed and braked the vehicle. He came to a
stop by the girl, who paused to stare at the RV in aston-
ishment. Obviously she had never seen a monster like this
before. But at least she wasn't running away from it.

Snarl leaped to the floor and charged for the front, his
stubby legs slipping on the unfamiliar surface. He arrived
just as the girl was answering Jim-Dad's question. "I'm
Ursa. I'm just looking for my dog. I was distracted and
lost him, and I can't find him anywhere. I'm afraid he'll
be hurt by the madness if I don't find him and take him
home quickly. Have you seen—?"

Then Snarl launched himself out the door. Ursa saw him
and plucked him out of midair. "Snarl! You're here!
You're safe!" She hugged him joyfully, and his stubby
little tail wagged ferociously.

So Snarl would not be traveling farther with them; he
had found his ideal companion. Midrange looked out the
window as the RV resumed motion. The girl waved, and
Snarl barked. Then they were gone. Karen wiped away a
tear, and Midrange's own eyes were wet, but of course,
that was because of the lingering effect of the Crimea
River.

After that, the drive became boring. Jim-Dad was driv-
ing fast, trying to get where he was going before the mad-
ness made it impossible. There was no other traffic on the
road, which helped, but still it wasn't the safest mode of
travel. The children were settling down to normal fidget-
ing, while Sean was oddly subdued, as if he had suffered

YON ILL WIND   151

some great forgotten adventure of his own. Midrange
tuned all of it out and catnapped.

He woke when the RV swerved. No wonder: the flying
dragons were back. They were swooping down to strafe
the vehicle, and Jim-Dad was trying to dodge their reach-
ing flames. But a flame caught it anyway—and did no
harm.

"Illusions!" Jim-Dad said, disgusted. "Trying to trick
me into swerving off the road. Because it's still enchanted,
and they can't really attack us here." After Aat he drove
straight ahead, even when a dragon came right down to
smash into the windshield, and there was nothing.

Midrange sat up and watched, because this was getting
interesting. Suppose one of those dragons turned out to be
real, and Jim-Dad didn't dodge it? If maybe there were a
flaw in the enchantment, letting one monster through. But
soon the phantom dragons gave up, probably because it
was no fun when the vehicle wouldn't be bluffed.

Then there was a sign: JUNK SHUN. "What do you sup-
pose that means?" Jim-Dad asked rhetorically. "I don't
remember it from before."

It soon turned out to be a crossroads where there was a
huge pile of garbage, refuse, and junk. Was it real—or
more illusion? A lot of that junk was in the middle of the

road; the vehicle could suffer damage if it plowed into it
at speed.

"Delay is disaster," Jim-Dad muttered, and maintained

speed. He won: they passed through the junk without con-
tact.

After that there were various weird images in the sky
and on the ground. At times it looked as if the sky was
solid, with mountains growing on it, while the land was
gaseous, with birds flying through it. The road was a rib-
bon of asphalt winding between them, now tunneling
through the hills and then floating on water. At one point
it headed straight out into space, with the ground showing
far below. But Jim-Dad just forged on, ignoring all the
effects, and in the end prevailed. His natural Mundane dis-

152   PIERS ANTHONY

belief in magic was helping him reject the illusions. As
dusk threatened, they reached the turnoff to Imp Erial.

As they pulled carefully into the village, they saw that
the imps were desperate. They were still working, but they
looked haggard. Piles of boxes and bags of gems sat on
the walks, not yet carried to safety. Obviously they were
not going to make it.

The RV drew to a stop. Quieta appeared, her nice dress
sweat-sodden, her nice hair in disarray. "But we thought
you were safely out of Xanth by this time," she cried.

"We came to help you complete your job," Jim-Dad
said. "Tell us how to do that."

Quieta wasted no time on amazement. "You can carry
those piles of gems to the cave. Ersonal will show you the
way."

They trooped out, not bothering with the accommoda-
tion spell this time. Each of the humans, including Nimby,
picked up a pile and carried it carefully. Each load was
perhaps ten times what an imp might have carried. They
followed Imp Ersonal along a path that was really too
small for full humans, but it had to do, because if they
reduced to imp size, they wouldn't be able to carry their
burdens.

They came to the cave. It looked like a rathole, so small
that even the imps had to crawl into it. They set down
their burdens and returned to the village.

Midrange watched, as did Woofer and Tweeter. They
weren't fit for carrying, but they could still help. When the
humans returned, each animal showed some of them to a
new pile. That way the imps didn't have to carry the piles
to the staging region; they could be picked up directly from
the buildings. When the imps saw that, they increased their
efforts to get their wares out on the steps. There were bar-
rels of beryls, each gem of which was a miniature barrel
that would cause anyone who invoked it to bare all. Men
liked to give these to innocent women, the imps explained.
There were lapfuls of lapis, which would cause people to
wee-wee unexpectedly; Midrange presumed those were for

YON ILL WIND   153

unfriends or those with certain bodily complications. There
were pails of fire opals, which were little 0-shaped pails
that would safely carry fire. There were chairs loaded with
citrines, which were gems that caused folk to sit, and if
they then took up a la-trine, they would sing, and more.
There were collections of topaz, which were toe-shaped
candies, yellow, peach, white, and blue. There were tiger
eyes, through which one could catch a view of a tiger. In
fact, there were so many kinds of gems that Midrange lost
interest long before assimilating them all.

"What kind of goofy creature are you?" an imp de-
manded.                                     "

Midrange stared at the imp, who was no larger than
Midrange himself. "You must be Olite," he remarked in
animal language, not expecting to be understood.

"How did you guess, caterwaul?" the imp asked rudely.
"Now, get your carcass out of my way so I can set these
0-nix stones down where your fat rump is."

Onyx. To be sure. Midrange got out of the way. It was
good to know that not all the imps were sickly sweet in
the manner of Quieta.

As David came to pick up the collection here, two more
imps passed by. "You know. End, those huge humans
have really helped us," one said. "Too bad this is only
the beginning of Xanth's mischief."

"You're right, Asse," the other replied. "They have
enabled us to save our wares in time, for which we are
deeply grateful, but the fate of the rest of Xantb' seems
worse."                                f

"I hope that when we emerge from our safe cave,
enough of Xanth remains to make existence worthwhile,"
End said, his tone suggesting that he doubted that would
be the case.

The two walked on, checking the various houses to
make sure all the goods had been taken. But Midrange was
bothered by their imp-lication. This wasn't the whole job?
Then what was the point? He didn't like thinking that they

154   PIERS ANTHONY

had taken all this trouble to accomplish nothing really sig-
nificant.

So he ran after David, with whom he could communi-
cate most readily. The boy was just setting down his last
load, as dusk became darkness. "Meavid!" he said.

David saw him and picked him up. "What's with you,
hero?" he asked, stroking his fur in the way he tolerated.

"Merouble." Confound this clumsy human speech!

"Trouble?" David asked. "I thought we just took care
of it. Now we're going to use the accommodation spell
and join the imps in their safe cave and wait for the mad-
ness to pass."

Midrange wasn't sure of that. But he couldn't get
through to the boy fast enough, even if he knew exactly
what the problem was. "Meimby."

"Ask Nimby? Okay."

At that point Nimby approached. He always seemed to
know when someone wanted to talk to him. The imps say
there is clanger for all Xanth, he thought to Nimby, who
could read minds. What is it? Can we help? Tell David.

Nimby wrote a note and gave it to David. "There is
danger!" David cried. "And we can help."

Chlorine approached. "There is more danger?" she

asked.

David gave her the note. She read it and sighed. "Then
I suppose we'll have to tell the others, though I fear this
will lead to complications."

David nodded. "I guess this isn't great for you, huh?
It's more work with the duffers."

Chlorine tousled his hair. Midrange saw the effect it had
on the boy; if Sean was three-quarters-smitten by her
beauty, David was half-smitten. "Really, I don't mind. But
how did you know to ask Nimby about it?"

"Midrange told me."

Chlorine looked at Midrange with mock severity. "So
you're the one!" She tousled his fur too. And he, too,
loved it. There was just something about a stunningly
beautiful woman with a nice personality, even if he knew

YON ILL WIND   155

it was all an enchantment made by a donkey-headed
dragon.

And the truth was that this was the best adventure Mid-
range himself had ever had. It had everything: a dragon, a
damsel, peril, magic, mystery, and madness. What more
could a bored tomcat desire?

9

20 QUESTIONS

Chlorine went to find the adult members of the fam-
ily. Jim Baldwin was just returning from his final
load of gems. She intercepted him. "Excuse me,
please—'' She realized that she didn't know how he pre-
ferred to be addressed. "Mundane Father—"

He smiled. "Call me Jim."

That made it easier. "Jim, I have learned that there is
more danger. Not just for the imps, but for all Xanth. Da-
vid asked Nimby. Nimby didn't volunteer it, because it
wasn't to us personally. But—''

"We were able to help the imps, but helping all Xanth
is surely beyond our power," he said. "We need to use
the accommodation spell now and join the imps in their
safe cave until the storm passes."

"The imps are afraid that there will not be much left,
after it passes," she said.

"I'd better talk with Nimby. The way the wind is rising,
we can't delay about a decision."

"I know where he is." She led him back to David,
Midrange, and Nimby.

"Nimby, what's this about danger for all Xanth, and
how does it concern us?'' Jim asked.

156 PIERS ANTHONY

Nimby had already written a note. He gave it to Jim.

" "The storm is unique because it is foreign,' " Jim
read. " 'It will continue to grow in strength, and the magic
dust it spreads will devastate all of Xanth if not stopped.
Those who live underground, or take cover there, will sur-
vive, but those who remain on the ground, in the water,
or in the air will suffer grievously. Most of the vegetation
will be blown away. What remains will be a paltry rem-
nant. But it is possible for this party to ameliorate it, if we
take immediate and effective action, at some risk to our-
selves.' "

"Some risk?" Chlorine said. "But I'm supposed to get
you safely out of Xanth."

"We negated that when we turned back from the bor-
der," Jim remarked wryly.

The other members of the family had assembled during
the reading. "Dad, we have to take that action," Sean saul.

"Yeah," Karen agreed.

He looked at Mary. "Yes," she said grimly.

"But that probably means danger," he said. "Nimby
surely isn't fooling about 'some risk.' And we're already
tired."

"And all the other folk of Xanth face possible extinc-
tion," Mary said.

He faced Nimby. "What can we do?"

Nimby was already writing another note. Jim read it. He
looked at Chlorine. "It seems we shall have to split up,"
he said.

"But I must see you safely out of Xanth!" Chlorine
repeated. "That's my mission. I can't leave you until
then."

"Nimby believes that you will not be able to accomplish
that mission until Xanth itself is secured," Jim said. "So
it seems we shall have to take the risk. You must go with
Nimby to fetch the windbreaker; we must go to Castle
Roogna to get help in enlisting Fracto Cumulo Nimbus in
the cause of saving Xanth."

"Wow!" David exclaimed.

YON ILL WIND   157

Chlorine was amazed. She looked at Nimby. He nodded.
' 'Well, it will be your fault if I fail to complete the Good
Magician's service," she said. "I certainly hope you know
as much as you think you do."

Nimby nodded again. He was so sure he knew, when
obviously he couldn't know everything. That was about
the only aggravating thing about him.

Then he wrote another note. It said: / know what is
going on in Xanth, not what will happen. I know that
Fracto and the windbreaker can save Xanth, but not
whether they will. I know the best way to achieve these
things, but not whether they will be achieved. I do not
mean to be aggravating.

And how could she be mad at him? He was making her
beautiful, smart, and healthy, and helping her have the
greatest adventure of her life. "I'm sorry for what I
thought," she said, for of course, he had made her nice,
too. She knew she wouldn't much care about his feelings
in her natural state, but she was glad to be the way he had
made her. She felt so much better about herself this way,
and not just because of the way others saw her. She owed
Nimby everything.

"Then so let it be," Jim said. Chlorine suspected that
he, too, was beginning to enjoy this adventure, which was
surely quite different from his ordinary life in drear Mun-
dania. "We shall drive to—" He glanced at the note
Nimby had given him. ' 'Castle Roogna. We should be able
to make it by morning."

Mary took his arm. "You have driven enough, dear,"

she said. ' 'I will drive there, while you get some necessary
rest."

Karen stared at her. "Mom! You can drive the RV?"

"Stop teasing me, you little bleep," Mary said with a
third of a smile. Unlike the others, she actually said the
word "bleep"; it wasn't a Conspiracy expurgation.

' 'But how will we find our way there, without Chlorine
and Nimby to tell us?" David asked.

"Good point," Jim said.

158   PIERS ANTHONY

Quieta had joined the group. "We really appreciate the
way you helped us complete our task in time, at the ex-
pense of your own freedom to leave Xanth," she said.
"We have not known how to repay you, but now perhaps
we can. We shall provide a guide."

"But then that person won't be safe in the sanctuary
cave," Mary protested.

"She will be safe at Castle Roogna, perhaps, especially
if you succeed in saving Xanth. Here is my daughter Tren-
ita." A younger imp woman stepped forward. She looked
to be in her mid-thirties.

"Then we are constrained to accept your kind offer,"
Jim said. ' 'Now I think the madness is closing in; you must
close your cave, and we must be on our way."

So they bid a second parting to the imps, who Chlorine
suspected were just as glad not to have to entertain the
family in the sanctuary cave, and went their ways. The
Baldwin family piled into their traveling house and moved
off, Mary at the wheel, with Trenita Imp lifted into the
seat next to Karen. Chlorine and Nimby saw them off. It
looked as if the vehicle were stretching and twisting like
a giant caterpillar, but she knew that was just the effect of
the madness.

Then she turned to her companion. "So how do we find
this windbreaker?" she asked.

He wrote a note: It is one of the possessions of Sending.
We must obtain it from the ambitious program.

"Sending! The one we just messed up to rescue the
Mundane pets? We're doomed."

Not if we approach him properly. Sending is rational.

"So how do we approach him?"

We must bring him a suitable gift, and answer his twenty
questions.

"Twenty questions? I may be smart, now, thanks to you,
but I'm not sure I could answer that many without a stum-
ble. What happens if we miss one?"

We become two of Sending's artifacts.

"Nuh-uh, Nimby! I already have an assignment, and

YON ILL WIND   159

after that I'll have to go home and become dull again. I
can't get locked into slavery for some cold machine."

But I can answer the questions.

"Oh. If you're sure. How do we get there? It was a long
fast ride in the Mundane moving house, and I don't think
we could walk that far tonight, even without the interfer-
ence of the madness, not to mention the wind." For the
wind was rising again, blowing her skirt up and about, and
trying to tangle her hair enough to form a pack of snarls.
Now that Sean wasn't here to goggle at her legs, she found
this inconvenient.

Nimby led the way to the side of the road. "But if we
go beyond the enchanted limit, monsters can get us," she
said. But she knew Nimby was aware of that, and wouldn't
lead her into danger.

There was a big puff of cotton caught in a tree. No, it
was cloudstuff, she realized. Maybe some of the cloud that
made the Gap Chasm ferry had detached and drifted here.
Naturally Nimby knew where it was. So she helped him
wrestle it out of the snags of the branches and twigs.

But the small cloud wanted to float; they couldn't get it
down to the ground. Then Nimby boosted her up onto it.
She fell into its bowl-like surface, her legs in the air, her
skirt halfway to her head.

Nimby climbed up on the other side, and rolled into the
cloud bowl. He, too, landed mostly'upside down, but his
trousers left him decorous.

"No fair," she said. "When I climbed in, I showed my
panties to the sky. You didn't show anything. And you
probably saw my panties, too."

Nimby nodded.

"And you're not even embarrassed," she said severely.
He nodded again.

"Or freaked out." Now she was annoyed. But then she
realized that he was, after all, only a dragon, who didn't
see human beings as prospects for anything social. Why
should he care about panties?

She got herself in order and poked her head over the

160   PIERS ANTHONY

edge of the cloud. It was still floating, and the wind was
blowing it north along the highway at increasing velocity.
So they were being carried in the direction they wanted to
go. Obviously Nimby had known that this would be the
case. The trollway was bare, and the trees along the sides
of it seemed to be shirting colors, textures, and natures,
because of the distortion by the intensifying madness. But
they also channeled this gust of wind, so that the cloud
was floating straight along the channel, and still gaining
speed.

"Well, if we're going to float there, let's get some
shielding from the wind," she said. She took handfuls of
the cloudstuff at the rim and shaped it up into higher walls,
and then all the way into a dome over them. The material
gleamed faintly, lighting the interior with a gentle yellow
glow. It was fun to work with cloud, because it was so
soft and pliable. "Just the way a woman is supposed to
be," she said as she finished the job. She didn't have quite
enough material to make the dome complete, so she fash-
ioned a round window in the top, through which they could
view the stars. Now they shared a spherical chamber, and
apart from a certain bounciness, it was hard to tell that it
was moving.

"Now let's get comfortable," she said, and shaped two
pillows for them. ' 'We can just lie here until we get there.
I'm sure you'll know when that is."            ,.;

Nimby nodded.

They floated comfortably along. But the novelty soon
wore off. Chlorine would have slept, but it was early in
the evening, and anyway, she had snoozed while riding in
the traveling house. So she was wide-awake, and becoming
bored.

"Nimby, exactly what are you?" she asked. "I mean,
I know you're a donkey-headed dragon who knows what's
going on, and you can make me beautiful and yourself
handsome. But I never heard of any creature like you be-
fore. Where did you come from? What did you do all
day?"

YON ILL WIND   161

Nimby's pad and pencil appeared. He wrote a note, and
gave it to her. She read it aloud.

" 'I am a special variety of monster. I contest endlessly
with others of my kind for status. We live only for games,
whose rules are somewhat arbitrary and stringent. If we
violate them, we lose the game. Some games are brief,
while some take centuries.' "

She looked up. "Centuries! Your kind must live a long
time!" Nimby nodded apologetically.

She resumed reading. " 'Status is indicated by the de-
limiters. Ordinary status is parentheses, and the next stage
is brackets, and braces, and angles, though for convenience
we usually just use parentheses.'"

She broke off again. "You must lead the dullest life
imaginable. Nimby! No wonder you came to share an ad-
venture with me. It's bad enough being a donkey-headed
dragon, but to be limited, I mean delimited in braces—
you poor thing!" She tossed aside the note, which dis-
solved into a wisp of smoke and disappeared.

Nimby nodded. Oddly, he looked more relieved than
limited. But Chlorine remained bored, and it was obvious
that Nimby's background was even more boring.

So she made a decision. "Nimby, back when we first
got together, I said I would teach you romance, when the
right time came. I think that time is now. We have a lot
of adventure behind us, and probably a lot more ahead of
us, but right now we have none. Since we can't be sure
that everything will work out for the best, we might as
well make the most of what offers right now." She glanced
at him. "Do you have any idea what I'm talking about?"
Nimby shook his head.

She laughed. "You can read my mind, but you can't
understand what I'm thinking, because you're really a
striped dragon with a donkey head and you don't under-
stand human emotion. Well, because I know what you are,
there can't be anything serious between us, no lasting re-
lationship, just as there couldn't be with young Sean Mun-
dane, though it was fun having him watch me, though the

162   PIERS ANTHONY

past few hours he ignored me, even when I came perilously
close to exposing my—" She severed that unpleasant
thought. "And you will surely never break my heart and
make me cry." Though, oddly. Nimby did seem to look
sad at that point. "But I do appreciate what you are doing
for me. Nimby, and I think it only fair to repay you in my
fashion. So I'll show you how to act, as if you were really
a handsome human man and not a laughably weird exotic
creature. Who knows, the information might come in
handy sometime. And maybe it'll be fun." She glanced at
him again. "Do you understand anything yet?"

He shook his head.

"Well, you will find out. I am going to show you how
to summon the stork. Too bad it's not for real. But we'll
pretend it is. Now I think I have practiced enough with
Sean to know what turns a man on. If I can turn you on,
I'll know I'm getting there. Are you ready?"

Nimby looked doubtful.

Chlorine smiled. "So we're starting from neutral. Good.
Now, since you can't speak, I shall have to speak both our
parts. But you can perform the actions for yourself. It's all
like a play put on by the Curse Fiends, and we know we
don't mean any of it, but it may be interesting anyway.
Whatever I say I'll do, I'll do, and whatever I say you'll

do, you'll do. Understand?"

Nimby nodded, still dubiously.

"You say with masculine boldness, 'What is your name,
pretty girl?' And I nutter my eyelashes demurely and re-
ply, 'Chlorine, handsome man, and what is yours?' And
you say, 'I am Nimby. I'm a dashing dragon of a man. I
have come to take you away from all this.' And I say, 'Oh,
sir, how romantic! I think I will kiss you.' And I do." She
turned to face him, as they lay side by side within the
bowl, and kissed him firmly on the mouth. Despite her
artificial dialogue, she was getting into it, and the kiss felt
real. For one thing. Nimby was kissing her back, so he did

understand that much.

"And then you, being a man, have mainly one thing on

YON ILL WIND   163

your mind," she continued. "And that is summoning the
stork. So you say, 'Chlorine, you are very pretty, but I
think you would look downright lovely with less on.' And
you put your hand on my knee and squeeze, gently." She
took his hand and set it there when he hesitated. "And I
say, innocently, 'Oh, do you really think so? Would you
like me to show you my panties?' And you are so excited
at the prospect that you can't even speak at the moment,
so you just nod and smile. And then—"

She broke off, for there was a face at the window, with
two big eyes. "What is this!" she cried, annoyed. She
threw a cloud-fluff pillow at it. The pillow struck the head
and fragmented into smithereens. Then she saw that it
wasn't a head, it was a rotating set of blades. As they
turned, they formed the face. It was a window fan. Such
creatures loved to peer into windows. That really turned
them on, so that they spun faster.

Fortunately her thrown pillow had gummed up its works
and blinded it. It would peer in her window no more.

"Now, where exactly were we?" she inquired, recov-
ering her bearings, as she unbound her green-gold hair to
float in a luxuriant mass around her shoulders. "Oh, yes,
the high point of any man's life: to see the color of her
panties. (No, we won't mention that you made nice ones
for me; that isn't part of this script. You are now in in-
nocent homy male mode.) I have just made the supreme
offer, and you are gaga at the very notion. So you nod
yes, you are hot to see them, for they are surely Xanth's
most delightfully naughty sight. And by this time I am hot
to show you, knowing that it will probably freak you out,
not to mention inflame your passion beyond endurance,
requiring me to kiss you and stroke you back to some
semblance of sanity. So—"

She loosened her dress and drew it up and over her head.
"Of course, you can't see them yet, because I'm wearing
a slip under my dress. I am such an awful tease, as is
required by the Big Book of Rules for Adult Conspiracy
Indiscretions. However—"

164   PIERS ANTHONY

There was a shuddering in the cloud, and the sound of
heavy tromping. "What now?" Chlorine demanded, her
patience showing a sign of wanting to wander, if not to

get lost.

Nimby's pad and pencil appeared. But before he com-
pleted his note, the cloud cover shook violently, sending
Chlorine tumbling slip over flying hair. Then another face

appeared in the window.

"I thought I got rid of you," she said. But then she
realized that this was a different face, huge and fat and

vaguely masculine. •

"Any ogres here?" the face inquired, licking its thick

lips.

Her patience slipped another notch. "Do I look like an

ogre?" she demanded, swinging her legs in his direction.

He blinked, but evidently was not sufficiently human to
freak out at the sight. "No, you look like a luscious morsel
of a damsel girl with pretty good legs."

He had been doing okay until the last three words. Her
last nerve frayed, on the verge of snapping. "Pretty
good?" she demanded. "And just what do you consider

to be good legs?"

"Why, ogre legs, of course."

"Ogre legs! Ogre legs!?" she screeched in what might
have passed for harpy fashion, if one had that low a mind.

"What kind of creature are you?"

"I'm an ogre eater, of course," he explained.
"An ogre eater! You mean you eat ogres? I never heard

of that before."

"Well, there aren't many of us, because ogres don't

taste very good." He glanced again at her legs. "But I
suppose if there aren't any ogres, you might do; your legs
have a fair amount of healthy meat on them."

"Oh no you don't!" she snapped, clapping her legs to-
gether. "I need these legs myself. Go find a real ogre."

"Okay," the ogre eater said. The face disappeared, and
the tromping and ground shaking resumed, in a diminish-
ing cadence.

YON ILL WiNti   165

Chlorine returned once more to the business at hand.
She saw Nimby holding his note. "Never mind that," she
told him. "I found out for myself. Now let's resume our
activity before something else interrupts. I wish this cloud
floated just a bit higher, so sundry folk couldn't just peek
in."

Nimby started to get up.

"No, don't see about doing something about it," she
said quickly. "That'll just distract us. I want to get the
bleep on with this, before we arrive where we're going
and it's too late. Can you appreciate that?"

Nimby looked appreciative. In fact, she had the impres-
sion that he was definitely getting intrigued by her ongoing
lesson of love. Good. It was nice being so beautiful as to
inflame men's minds, and so sexy as to force them to think
of only one thing: summoning the stork. She had verified
that it worked on Sean Mundane, but he was young.
Nimby was mature.

She lifted her slip to knee height, tantalizingly. Nimby
looked really interested. She was ready to lift it all the way
clear, but didn't. Her hands just wouldn't do it.

What was the matter with her? Here was her chance to
do what no man had been interested in doing with her
before, yet she was stalling. Why?

Nimby wrote another note. Because you know I am only
a donkey-headed dragon, and you want a real man.

She realized it was true. She could playact all she
wanted, and craft any script she wanted, but down under-
neath she knew it wasn't real, because he wasn't real. In
fact, she wasn't real either; she was just a plain and some-
what omery girl making a pretense. What was the use of
that?

Yet if she didn't take advantage of her opportunity now,
her adventure might be over before she had another
chance. So maybe pretense was better than nothing at all.
"Dam it. Nimby, let's do it anyway! I want to show my
panties to someone, and you may never get to see another
girl's panties, I mean, not when she's not thinking of you

166   PIERS ANTHONY

as some stupid beast who doesn't count. Would you like
to go ahead?"

Nimby nodded.

Chlorine took hold of her slip again. "Then watch this,
and be amazed." She took a two-handed grip and hauled
it right up and over her head. She flung it away and stood
proudly in her pale green/yellow bra and panties.

But Nimby didn't freak out. Because not only was he a
dragon, it was his magic that had made this limited cloth-
ing, as well as her present body. None of it was new or
novel to him. "Oh, this isn't working!" she cried, frus-
trated anew. "I'm just going through meaningless motions,
and boring you to oblivion. I'm sorry. Nimby."

Nimby wrote a note and handed it to her. / am not

bored.
But she knew better. "How can you be interested in

what you yourself made? I might as well revert to my
natural state, where my panties don't even pretend to be
interesting, let alone man-freaking." She fetched back her
slip and put it back on. "I apologize for dragging you
through this embarrassing charade. Nimby. I won't do it
again. I could just cry with frustration—but I can't risk

even that."

Nimby, looking alarmed, started to write another note.
"No, don't do it," she told him firmly. "Don't try to
tell me something you think will make me feel good. Let's
leave the illusions for those who don't know better."
Nimby looked sad, but his notepad disappeared.
Chlorine fetched her dress and donned it. "But I want
you to know that I do like you. Nimby, and respect you,
and if you were a real man, I would have done it with
you. Even if you were a near-man, like a Curse Fiend or
maybe a Demon. Demons know how to appreciate mortal
women, physically at least. But a dragon? All this must be
utterly laughable to you. So I won't bore you anymore; I
owe you at least that much. You have been a really good

sport."

Her dress was done. She started on her hair. Then, on

YON ILL WIND   167

sudden impulse, she went to Nimby and embraced him.
"Thanks for being my friend," she said, and kissed him.
The two half tears in her eyes brimmed, but fortunately
didn't lose their positions.

Nimby froze. His eyes glazed. Had she freaked him out
after all? But in half a moment he recovered, and wrote a
note. You are more than welcome. Chlorine.

She smiled. "At least we understand each other. Maybe
that's better than the other."

He nodded, though he looked as if he had come close
to some phenomenal achievement, and lost it. Maybe she
should have done the stork routine with him, after tempting
him so. But no; she had done her best to do the right thing,
and that was to save the stork summoning for a man she
really loved, rather than wasting it on a game.

The cloud floated on, sublimely unconcerned with their
troubled thoughts.

Soon Nimby wrote another note. We are there.

"Already?" she asked, surprised. But she realized that
the cloud had been moving along with deceptive velocity,
so it could be. So her opportunity to do something naughty
was indeed gone. She regretted and resented that, even
though she had made the decision herself.

Nimby scrambled up and out the top window, and held
down a hand for her. He pulled her right up; she was
surprised by his easy strength, until she remembered yet
again that he was really a dragon. They perched on top,
and she saw that the cloud was indeed moving along at a
good clip. The wind was higher; the sound had been muf-
fled by the cloud wall so that she had forgotten it. The ill
wind was still intensifying.

Nimby reached out and caught an overhanging branch.
He kept his feet hooked into the top of the cloud so that
it couldn't go anywhere. But neither did it sink to the
ground. It was still about twice a man's height up. That
ogre eater must have been huge! "How do we get down?"
she asked.

Nimby nodded toward his legs. This required some in-

168   PIERS ANTHONY

terpretation. He was going to climb down? He shook his
head, and she remembered—again—that he could read her
mind. So all she had to do was think the right thought.

She put her bright mind to work. She must have some-
thing to do with his feet. Take them out of the cloud? But
then it would float away with her. Unless she hung on to
them. Aha! She could swing down on his legs; that would
get her low enough so she could drop the rest of the way
without harm. She saw that the ground was soft there, piled
with pine needles, surely by no coincidence; Nimby always
knew what he was doing. But how would he get down?
He must be strong enough to handle the drop. And he

nodded.

"Okay, Nimby," she said. "I'm trusting you with my
safety. I guess I might as well, having already shown you
my panties, for all that they bombed out."

She leaned into him and grabbed him around the thighs.
"I hope I don't pull your pants off," she said. But she
knew that wouldn't happen. Nothing ever went wrong with
Nimby. That thought made her regret for one or two in-
stants that she hadn't continued her script in the cloud, at
least up to the point of getting his pants Off. She was cu-
rious about—but that was an unmaidenly thought—and
what was he thinking of it now?

She refocused and scrambled off the cloud. She dropped
down, seeing his legs release the cloud, which quickly
floated on downwind, in a hurry to get where it was going.
She swung back and forth like a pendulum, her body slid-
ing down past his knees and feet, until she was just about
all the way beneath him. Then she dropped, landing neatly
on the needles, which were rusted and crumbly, not still
sharp, fortunately. She was surprised by how readily she
had done it, then realized that it was her good health that
accounted for it. The health Nimby had given her. How-
ever, she still lost her balance and sat down; health did not
give her perfect judgment on a landing.

Someone laughed. It sounded like the voice of an ass,
but it wasn't Nimby, who was still hanging above, waiting

YON ILL WIND   169

for her to clear the landing site. She looked around.

There was a man emerging from the forest beside the
road. He wore dirty clothes and had a large rusted metal
can for a hat. "Do it again, sister!" he brayed. "Maybe
this time I'll see something interesting."

Chlorine knew his type. He was a junk male—who trav-
eled around to take up the attention of people who didn't
want him, and acted like trash. There were way too many
of his kind cluttering up the space of decent folk. She knew
exactly how to handle him.

"Is this interesting enough?" she called sweetly as she
got to her feet. When she was sure he was watching, she
turned around and flipped up her skirt and slip.

There was silence. She let her clothing fall back into
place and turned around. The junk male was lying on his
back, staring at the sky, not moving a muscle. He was
absolutely stiff. He would remain that way for some time.
Because he had Freaked Out.

Chlorine smiled. She had now proved the potency of
her panties.

Then she remembered Nimby, who was still hanging by
the branch. She hastily got out from under. "You may
drop down now," she called sweetly. "I have disposed of
the trash."

He dropped, smiling. He understood. That was one of
the things she liked about him. He was strong, silent, help-
ful, and understanding.

They walked past the freaked-out male and into the for-
est toward Sending's lair. Nimby knew the way without
hesitation, of course, despite the darkness. When she stum-
bled, he took her hand and led her securely along firm-
footed paths. They didn't need to worry about dangers,
because Nimby avoided them automatically, and knew
how to deal with them anyway. Chlorine realized that she
felt safe with him, and she liked that, too.

Soon they came to the dastardly device's cave. Nimby
walked right in without fear, so she did too. But it was
even darker here, until Nimby found a glow fungus that

170   PIERS ANTHONY

served as a lamp. He just always could put his hands on
the right thing.

In the central chamber the two halves of the reverse
wood ball still lay on the floor, nullifying Sending. Nimby
picked them up and put them together again. He handed
her the ball.

"But—" she said, almost dropping it in her nervous-
ness. Then she realized that it was safe, as long as she kept
it together. So she held it excruciatingly carefully. It
wouldn't do her harm anyway, because if it reversed her
magic, she would be able to sweeten water instead of poi-
soning it. But she wondered how Nimby himself was able
to handle reverse wood without getting reversed.

The glassy screen lighted. A picture of a man appeared,
with a big question mark over his head. Evidently the ma-
lignant machine was confused after being knocked out by
the reverse wood.

Nimby glanced at her. Oh—she had to do the talking.

"Sending," she said firmly, "We have come to make a
deal with you. You can't change our reality because I have
this ball of reverse wood, and if anything happens to me,
I'll drop it and the two pieces will fall apart and stop re-
versing each other and resume reversing you, as they did
before. You will become an unmagical collection of junk.
Do you understand?"

The screen blinked. The question mark faded out.

"We want to obtain the windbreaker," she continued.
"I understand you have it, and we can get it from you if
we answer your twenty questions. Is that correct?"

The screen brightened. The man figure smiled. Then the
screen split, with the upper section showing an icon of a
pretty young woman holding a jacket, and the lower sec-
tion showing the young woman and a young man in
chains.

"If we answer all the questions correctly, we get the
windbreaker," she said, interpreting. "If we don't, we
both become your slaves for life." She paused, glancing a
bit apprehensively at Nimby. Was he sure—?

YON ILL WIND   171

But Nimby nodded. So she took her courage in one
trembling hand and proceeded. "That seems fair. We
agree. The two of us will consult on each question, and
decide on the answer; only when I address you directly,
Sending, will it count. Agreed?"

A smiley face appeared on the screen.

"Very well," she said briskly, just as if her heart
weren't palpating her gizzard. "Proceed."

Now print appeared on the screen. So Sending could
print, when he chose to; he wasn't limited to icons and
pictures. FIRST A SAMPLE QUESTION, TO BE SURE WE AGREE

ON THE MANNER OF THE QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS. THIS IS
FOR DEMONSTRATION PURPOSE ONLY.

"Agreed." Chlorine suspected that there were rules
about such things, and Sending didn't want his prospective
victory to be nullified by a technicality.

QUESTION SAMPLE #1, REFERRING TO THE THIRD OF THE
MUSE'S HISTORICAL TEXTS OF XANTH: WHEN MAGICIAN
DOR, THEN AGE TWELVE, TRIED TO STOP THE FORGET
SPELL'S COUNTDOWN IN THE YEAR 236, IT DID NOT RE-
SPOND. SINCE IT WAS ABLE TO SPEAK ONLY BY HIS MAGIC,
WHICH ENABLED HIM TO, SPEAK TO THE INANIMATE AND
HAVE IT ANSWER, WHY DID HE NOT SIMPLY WITHDRAW HIS
MAGIC SO THAT IT COULD NO LONGER SPEAK?

Chlorine read the question, and quailed. She remem-
bered from her centaur history classes (before she flunked
out) that Prince Dor had traveled eight hundred years into
Xanth's past and detonated the Forget Spell, making the
Gap Chasm be forgotten for eight hundred years until the
Time of No Magic broke up the enchantment, but the logic
of this was beyond even her enhanced intelligence. If this
was typical of the questions to come, she would be
doomed before she started.

But Nimby was writing a note. He gave it to her, and
suddenly the answer was clear. " 'He did not do that be-
cause it would not have been effective,' " she read. " 'The
Forget Spell would merely have counted silently, and det-

172   PIERS ANTHONY

onated anyway. The countdown could not be stopped, once
started.' "

The screen went blank for a moment. Sending had ev-
idently expected her to get it wrong, and was disconcerted.
But in another moment it recovered. CORRBCT. THAT WAS

AN EASY ONE, OF COURSE. THE REAL QUESTIONS WILL BE
MORE DIFFICULT. ARE YOU PREPARED TO ADDRESS THEM?

Chlorine bit her tongue to get some saliva in her dry
mouth, and responded with fake confidence. "Of course.
Let's see a nice challenging one."

But the machine wouldn't be bluffed. QUESTION #1:

WHEN MAGICIAN TRENT FIRST ATTEMPTED TO CONQUER
XANTH IN THE YEAR 1021, IT WAS SAID THAT HE CHANGED
MEN INTO PISH AND LET THEM EXPIRE ON DRY LAND. HE
DENIES IT. WHAT IS THE TRUTH?

She quailed again, worse. How could anyone ever know
what had happened seventy-five years ago?

But Nimby was writing a note. She took it and read it
aloud, knowing that if it wasn't the correct answer, she
would not be able to do any better on her own. " 'Magi-
cian Trent did transform men into fish, but he did it by a
river, where they fell in and swam. Then he walked away.
But some of the fish, thinking that they were still men,
scrambled back onto land and perished. Magician Trent
never saw those ones, so did not know.' "

If Sending was impressed or disconcerted, he did not
show it. His screen flashed the next one. QUESTION #2:

MAGICIAN BINK'S TALENT IS THAT HE CAN NOT BE HARMED
BY MAGIC. THUS THE GAP DRAGON, BEING A MAGICAL
CREATURE, COULD NOT HARM HIM DESPITE MAKING THE EF-
FORT. YET HE WAS CHOKED BY CHESTER CENTAUR AND AL-
MOST SUFFOCATED BY A TANGLE TREE, BOTH OF WHICH
ARE MAGICAL CREATURES. HOW CAN THIS BE SO?

Chlorine was amazed. "That's Bink's talent? I always
thought he had no magic!"

SO YOU WILL THINK AGAIN, FOR OTHERS ARE NOT AL-
LOWED TO KNOW. YOU WILL FORGET THIS QUESTION AND
ITS ANSWER AFTER THIS SESSION IS OVER.

YON ILL WIND   173

Meanwhile Nimby was writing again. She took the pa-
per and read it: " "This is a deceptive question. You im-
• plied a connection that does not necessarily exist. Bink can
not be harmed by magic, but can be harmed by magic
creatures if they do not employ magical means. That is, a
dragon could chomp him mechanically, but could not en-
chant him magically. His talent does not regard threats or
even bruising to be harm, only permanent physical dam-
age. So there is no conflict.' "

The screen faded for a long instant or short moment;

she had set the disreputable device back again. Rather,
Nimby had; her respect for his intellect was verging on
awe. How could a funny dragon know so much? Sure, it
was his talent, but so was the way he changed the two of
them into a lovely human couple. How could he have two
magic talents?

Nimby passed her another note. Only the form changing
is magic; the knowledge is inherent in my nature.

Oh. Of course. But he was still one supremely remark-
able creature!

The next question was on the screen. QUESTION #3: THE

FORGET SPELL CONTROLLED THE GAP CHASM UNTIL THE
TIME OF NO MAGIC IN THE YEAR 1043, SO THAT ONLY
THOSE ACTUALLY WITHIN IT COULD REMEMBER IT. YET
WHEN MAGICIAN TRENT RETURNED FROM MUNDANIA IN
1042 HE REMEMBERED IT. HOW CAN THIS BE?

Chlorine whistled inwardly. These weren't mere ques-
tions of who did what when; they were crafted to require
extraordinary comprehension of all Xanth history. Only the
Good Magician Humfrey could possibly know all the an-
swers—and Nimby. She could almost have suspected that
Nimby was the Good Magician, if she hadn't seen them
together. Maybe they were related, and Nimby was per-
forming a service for Humfrey, just as she was. For the
good of Xanth.

The next note came. " 'The magic of Xanth has little
effect in Mundania,' " she read, " 'and Magician Trent
had been there twenty years. It took time for the Forget

174   PIERS ANTHONY

Spell to reassert itself with him. In due course he did forget
it again.' "

QUESTION #4: WHEN BINK AND CHAMELEON, IN THE
GUISE OF SMART UGLY FANCHON, LEFT XANTH THAT SAME
YEAR, THEY WERE ABLE TO UNDERSTAND THE MUNDANES
THEY ENCOUNTERED. HOW COULD THIS BE, AS MUNDANIAN
IS UNINTELLIGIBLE TO XANTHIANS?

She simply read Nimby's answer, because as usual, she
had no idea. " 'This is another trick question. Bink and
Chameleon never heard Mundanian; they remained in the
fringe of Xanth magic, and the Mundanes were automati-
cally talking Xanthian.' "

So it continued. How could Girard Giant know of Ma-
gician Murphy, who had been banished over seven hun-
dred years before Girard was delivered by an exhausted
stork? Because Girard did know some history. Why did
the Ghost Writer write, "Never (such) a cleavage" when
he saw luscious Nada Naga, when the Gorgon and Irene
and any number of buxom nymphs and centaur fillies had
similar figures? Because the Ghost Writer had not yet en-
countered those others, and in any event he was speaking
hyperbolically, as writers do. Why didn't the centaurs
teach Prince Dolph how to spell? Because they had tried
with his father. Dor, and failed spectacularly. There had to
be some learning ability in the student, or even a centaur
couldn't make much of an impression. Why did Prince
Dolph sometimes change form slowly, instead of instantly?
For variety. Why did Magician Humfrey take Lethe elixir
to forget Rose of Roogna for eighty years, but forget
everything else in that period too? Because there was too
much of her in their time together; to remember the rest
without her would have led to Lethe-nulling paradox.

Chlorine's head was reeling with all this arcane infor-
mation. But Nimby had all the answers, no matter how
devious the questions, and Sending's efforts were all
blocked.

She read off the answers, hardly assimilating their de-
tails, until she came to #19. It wasn't that it was any less

YON ILL WIND   175

devious or difficult, but that she realized that they were
reaching the end; this one, and one more, and they would
win! That gave her sudden shakes.

IN ONE OF THE MUSE CLIO'S VOLUMES OF THE HISTORY
OF XANTH WE ARE TOLD THAT THE NIGHT MARES ARE CON-
FINED TO THE LAND OF XANTH. IN ANOTHER WE LEARN
THAT NIGHT MAKES ALSO SERVICE MUNDANIA. HOW CAN
THIS BE?

Chlorine dreaded that seemingly innocent query, know-
ing that it wasn't innocent at all, it was a challenge. Had
the malignant machine caught the Muse herself in an error?
Then how could the question be answered definitively?
Her knees felt like noodles in heating water.

But Nimby never paused. He wrote his note and gave
it to her. She read it and was delighted with the simplicity
and clarity of the answer, so obvious in retrospect.
" 'Mundania, like Xanth, changes over the years. Some-
times the borders are closed and the night mares are con-
fined to Xanth; at other times the portal at No Name Key
is opened and the mares go through unimpeded. The Muse
notes the situation at the time of that particular volume.
There is no inconsistency when time is taken into ac-
count.' "

The screen dimmed. The surly system had thought he
had a winner, and had not. Only one more question, and
it was bound to be the worst.

QUESTION #20: HUMAN COLONIZATION OF XANTH DATES
FROM THE YEAR ZERO, DEFINED BY THE ARRIVAL OF THE
FIRST WAVE, 1,096 YEARS AGO. YET THE SEA HAG IS
KNOWN TO BE THOUSANDS OF YEARS OLD, HOW CAN THIS
BE?

Now Chlorine's knees definitely softened. She knew of
the wicked Sea Hag, who had indeed lived for thousands
of years by taking over the bodies of young folk and using
them until they were old and wom-out by her awful life-
style and degraded attitudes. Where could she have come
from, if she was older than human colonization of Xanth?
She couldn't have been Mundane, for Mundanes had no

176   PIERS ANTHONY

magic; she had to have been delivered in magical Xanth.
She was, despite her haggishness, definitely human. Could

Nimby answer this one?

Nimby could. She cursed herself for falling into another
neat little trap as she read his answer. Sullen Sending had
played it sneaky right to the end. " 'The Sea Hag dates
not from the First Wave, which signaled the beginning of
continuous human occupation of Xanth, but from'the first
lost human colony of Xanth, circa minus 2200. That col-
ony faded out three hundred years later, having been
careless about lov& springs, and crossbred with other crea-
tures, forming harpies, merfolk, naga, sphinxes, ogres,
goblins, elves, fauns, nymphs, fairies, and other species.
So the Sea Hag is approximately three thousand, two hun-
dred and ninety-six years old, normally simplified as

"thousands." ' "

The evil entity's screen turned furious red. Roils of
smoke crossed it. Lightning jags flickered. Sending was
not a good loser. But he had lost, and knew it. TAKE THE
WINDBREAKER. A panel opened in the cave wall behind
the screen, revealing a closet where a motley white jacket

hung.

"Thank you ever so much," Chlorine said super-
sweetly. "You have been excruciatingly nice." And of
course, the conflagration on the screen just got Worse, as

she had hoped.

She stepped up to the closet and took the windbreaker.
It seemed entirely ordinary. But she knew it wasn't. It was
the key to the solution to Xanth's current crisis.

MAY I ASK ONE QUESTION OF A PERSONAL NATURE? the

screen inquired over its burning background.

Chlorine glanced at Nimby, who shook his head. "No,"
she answered with deep satisfaction, and walked out of the
chamber. She knew the destructive device wanted to know
how Nimby knew so many answers, so Sending could nul-
lify that ability if they ever met again.

The cave exit became a blank stone wall. Sending was
changing reality. "Nu-wA," Chlorine said, lifting the re-

YON ILL WIND   177

verse wood ball she still held in her other hand. She could
drop it and nullify the mangy machine at any time. And
would do so the moment any untoward print or picture
started to form on the screen.

The exit reappeared. They used it, and emerged into the
night of Xanth proper. Chlorine was about to set down the
ball, but Nimby shook his head, so she put it in her purse.
Then she donned the windbreaker. It was very comforta-
ble.

So their part of the mission had been successful. She
wondered how the Mundane family was doing.

10

PRINCESSES

Trenita Imp sat beside Karen, because it had turned
out that she couldn't see anything from in front,
and Karen was thrilled. David was asleep, but she
was wide-awake and bored. Now that the accommodation
spell no longer affected them, she could appreciate just
how small the imps were. Trenita was thirty-seven years
old—the same age as Mom—but only nine inches tall. The
seat belt looked monstrous on her, and was surely a heavy
weight, but she didn't complain.

As the RV moved down the trollway, right through the
increasingly realistic phantasms formed by the thickening
madness brought by the ill wind, Karen questioned her
companion. "Do you travel often?"

"No, this is my first time away from my community."

"But then how do you know the way to Castle Boo-
gie?"

"Castle Roogna," Trenita said patiently, just like Mom.

178   PIERS ANTHONY

"Everyone in Xanth knows where that is. I have studied
centaur maps, and of course, I know the way of enchanted
paths."

"You mean like nobody can attack us on one?"

"Yes, of course. But also where they go and where they
stop."

"They stop?"

Trenita smiled. "When you get where you are going. In
this case. Castle Roogna."

"Is that a nice place?"

"I am sure you will love it. It has an orchard where all
manner of things grow, such as pie trees."

"Gee—even chocolate pies?"

"Especially those. The royal children have insisted on
them, and on bubblegum trees."

"There are children there?"

"Yes. Princess Ivy and Prince Dolph grew up there. Of
course, they're grown now, and married, and Prince Dolph
and Princess Electra have their twins. Dawn and Eve. They
are now five years old."

"Do they have magic talents?"

"Of course," the imp woman replied. "Every descen-
dant of Magician Bink has Magician-level magic. Dawn
can tell anything about any living thing, while Eve can tell
anything about any inanimate thing."

"Gee—I wish I had a magic talent, even a little one."

Trenita shook her head. "Mundanes lack magic. You
have to be delivered in Xanth to have it."

"Delivered?"

"By the stork, of course."

"You mean it's literal here? Babies aren't bom?"

"Bom?"

"You know. From their mothers."

"Oh, borne. The storks deliver them to their proper
mothers, of course, after they have been ordered."

"Ordered? You mean like from a novelty catalog?"

"From a cat? A log? No, a message is sent to the
stork."

YON ILL WIND   179

"Gee, things really are different in Xanth! How do they
send the orders?"

"I must not tell you that; the Adult Conspiracy abso-
lutely forbids it."

So things weren 't so different. This woman was the size
of a doll, but she was a typical adult. "Same as the bleep,
huh? But why aren't children supposed to know?"

"Because then they might summon storks themselves,
and not take care of their babies."

Karen considered that. She knew of cases in Mundania
where exactly that had happened. "But the words—why
forbid them? They aren't babies. They won't suffer if chil-
dren say them, will they?"

"But others would suffer. Have you seen the burned
foliage where harpies roost? Would you want human chil-
dren to do that?"

"Gee—I could bum things with words, if I knew the
words? I'd love that."

Trenita sighed. "Well, the full name is the Adult Con-
spiracy to Keep Interesting Things from Children."

"That's more like it," Karen agreed, vindicated.

"Oh, I must direct your mother to the bridge over the
Gap Chasm," Trenita said. "Before she misses the turn."

"I'll do it," Karen said eagerly. "Mom! Mom! Turn
coming up."

"But we're approaching the ferry station," Mom called
back.

"The ferry will be closed, because of the high winds,"
Trenita said. "We must use the bridge."

"Makes sense, Mom," Sean said, coming to life. He
had been pretty quiet recently, maybe because now there
was no sexy Chlorine to gawk at. "Wind blows clouds."

"Very well. I see a diverging lane ahead. But will it
take us off the enchanted path?''

"No, the paths to Castle Roogna are all enchanted,"
Trenita said reassuringly.

Mom made the turn. Karen returned her attention to
Trenita. "What's it like, being an imp?"

180   PIERS ANTHONY

"Much like being human, I suspect. Did you find our
hotel strange, when you used the accommodation spell?"
"No, it was great. Especially that magic mirror with the

historical pictures."

"It was showing you the Magic Tapestry of Castle
Roogna. You will be able to see the original there."

"Gee! That and a chocolate pie tree will be about as
good as candy and TV at home. Did you eat fun stuff when
you were a kid?"

Trenita smiled. "Of course. And my mother, Quieta,

disapproved."

"Did you have lots of pretty gems to play with?"

"No just the sparkles of morning dew that my mother
made. It was only more recently that my father became
mayor and had to supervise the making of more permanent
kinds of gems."

"How did Ortant get to be mayor?"

Trenita smiled reminiscently. "My grandfather had once
been ambitious. Then my grandmother died, and he lost
his ambition. He got caught by an alligator clamp, which
was slowly chewing off his leg, until a big ugly ogre
named Smash roared it off. It occurred to my grandfather
that if a creature that horrendous could do such a favor for
one so small, the least he could do in return was to become
worthwhile. So he resumed his ambition, and worked hard,
and lived up to his name."

"And became Important," Karen said, liking it. "That's

nice."

The RV slowed. "That bridge is too small," Mom said.

"No, it is the right size for whatever uses it," Trenita
said. "Unlike the invisible bridge or the one-way bridge.
Just go on it."

"Maybe I'd better hold you up so you can see for-
ward," Karen said. "This is getting scary."

"Yes. Let me stand on your shoulder."

Karen lifted the imp carefully, until she stood on her
right shoulder, holding on to a hank of her hair. "What

YON ILL WIND   181

pretty red," Trenita remarked, and Karen felt unreasonably
pleased.

Dad had been snoring in the back, with the three pets.
Now he woke. "Hey, don't drive into the chasm!" he
exclaimed, alarmed.

"Go back to sleep," Mom retorted.

As the RV nudged cautiously toward the footpath-sized
bridge, the perspective changed, and it became apparent
that the structure was wider than it had seemed. In fact, it
was also more solid. By the time they drove onto it, it
seemed quite sufficient.

"Magic is weird," Sean muttered.

The Gap Chasm had been impressive by day on a cloud.
It was awesome by night on a bridge just wide enough for
the vehicle. There was a faint glow below, hinting at its
depth, and darkness around the edges that seemed to loom
twice as close the moment her eyes turned elsewhere.

Then the glow and the darkness clarified. Ahead was a
dead end, with nowhere to go but into the dark depths.

The RV squealed to a stop. "The bridge is out," Mom
said, her voice deceptively calm.

"No it isn't," Trenita said. "That's illusion. The bridge
is enchanted, and will not harm you as long as you stay
on it. Just drive on."

Mom hesitated, understandably. Karen sympathized;

that was one frighteningly realistic drop-off. "Remember
the fake goblin roadblock," she called.

"True," Mom agreed. The vehicle nudged forward.

As the front wheels crossed the brink, the illusion dis-
appeared. The bridge was back. But it curved to the side.

"There's no curve!" Trenita cried. "The bridge is
straight."

"Thank you," Mom said grimly, driving straight.

"Illusions can kill you," Sean said, shaken.

"If you heed them," Trenita agreed.

Now a huge dragon face formed ahead. Its mouth
opened, showing gleaming glistening glittering teeth. The
most noxious possible smoke surged out to encompass the

182   PIERS ANTHONY

RV. It coalesced around the vehicle, becoming blood-
streaked slime.

"I wish the enchantment was effective against illusion,"

Trenita said.

"Oh, I don't know," Karen demurred mischievously.

"We can have some fun with this. Sean?"

"Gotcha," Sean agreed, catching on. He came to join

her.

They faced out the window. "Hey, slimeball!" Karen
called. "Whatcha eating tonight?"

"How about fried worms and day-old squished cater-
pillars?" Sean inquired.

The slime quivered. It might be illusion, but it heard
them. That was the great thing about Xanth: even the in-
animate had feelings. Even things that didn't exist could
hear and react. Karen had sort of figured it would be that
way, and it was good to be back in form with Sean.

"I should have known you were a dragon without
guts," Karen said. "Just slimy smoke."

"Pretty puny effort, if you ask me," Sean agreed loudly,
"I thought at least we'd see a decent show."

The slime became guts. They were gruesomely realistic,
oozing juices and slip-sliding over each other. Karen was
on the verge of nauseated, but she controlled her reaction.
"I've seen better guts on a drunk," she declared.

"On a drunk pig," Sean agreed. "This sure is a boring
place. Maybe the next illusion will have some oomph to

it."

The guts became a roaring furnace. This illusion was
angry now. Good. Karen faked a yawn. "Booring," she

said.

"For sure," Sean agreed. "Let's make faces at each

other, Karen; that'll be scarier."

"Anything would be scarier," she agreed. She put her
fingers in her mouth and pulled it wide as she stuck out

her tongue.

Sean pretended to gouge out his own eyes and hand her
an eyeball. Karen accepted it and popped it in her mouth.

YON ILL WIND   183

She made a burpy swallowing sound. "Yuck! It's raw.'"
Neither of them looked again at the illusion outside.

"It's gone," Trenita murmured.

"Right," Sean agreed. "Our act is so bad there's noth-
ing that can stand it." He smiled at Karen. "Nice going,
twerp,"

"Thanks, bleephead," she replied as he returned to his
seat.

"That'was interesting," Trenita remarked. "I never saw
anyone drive away an illusion before."

"It's Mundane talent," Sean said. "Nobody can stand
us, in our normal state."

Trenita laughed. "You nevertheless have your appeal."

The RV reached the end of the bridge and pulled back
onto solid land. Trenita returned to her side of the seat.
Karen felt something relax; she had been really tight,
knowing that if the illusion had succeeded in scaring or
confusing Mom, they could have plunged into the dreadful
abyss. But they had driven it away.

But she was not yet relaxed enough to sleep, despite the
lateness of the hour. So she asked the imp something that
was bound to be boring. "Why is it that all the men imps
have punny names, like Ortant or Atient, while the girl
imps don't?"

"Because the men are the ones who need the reassur-
ance of meaningful names," Trenita replied. "We women
already know our worth, so choose pretty names instead."

"It works for me," Karen said, and snoozed off.

When she woke, dawn was threatening, and the RV was
approaching a thick forest. Sean was asleep in the back-
seat, while Dad was up front with Mom. Tweeter was
perched in her hair, and Woofer was on the floor by Sean.
So the night was done, and Mom must be good and tired,
but they had to be close to where they were going.

She looked out the window. Massive tree branches
swung down to block the way. Karen blinked and rubbed
her eyes. Had she really seen that?

184   PIERS ANTHONY

' 'Tell them you have come to save Xanth from the ill
wind," Trenita called.

Mom rolled down her window and spoke those words.
The branches swung out of the way, and the RV drove on.

"The guardian trees are very protective of the castle,"
Trenita remarked. "But they feel the effects of the magic

dust."

Now they came into a lovely orchard—and sure enough,
there were pie trees galore. "Castle Roogna!" Karen cried.
"We'll have chocolate pie for breakfast!"

That woke David. "Wow," he said, gazing out.

The castle came into sight. It was just about the- most
beautiful building Karen had ever seen, framed by the
morning sunlight so that it glowed, with sparkles radiating
out. It had a moat and wall and turrets and cupolas and
pennants and just everything a castle should have.
"Ooooo," she breathed appreciatively.

' 'Ooooo,'' David mimicked her mockingly, but his heart
wasn't in it, because he, too, was impressed. They had seen
so much of the jungle and illusion of Xanth that this was
a wonderful change.

The drawbridge was up, but now it lowered, and a girl
in blue jeans ran out. She was slender and pigtailed, maybe
about sixteen years old. Obviously a serving girl.

"Hi!" she cried as she reached the RV. "You must be
the Mundanes. Welcome to Castle Roogna. I'm Electra."

"Yes, we are the Mundane family," Mom said. "We
understand that we can help save Xanth from the ill wind,
if someone in the castle can tell us where to go and how

to do it."

"Sure. Come on in," Electra said. "You must be tired
after being in that moving house so long."

"We are," Mom agreed. "But we're in no shape to
enter a royal castle. If someone can come out and give us
directions, we'll be on our way."

"Oh, no, you must come in," the girl cried. "King Dor
insists."

YON ILL WIND   185

"But we're grimy and rumpled and dirty," Mom pro-
tested.

"And hungry," David called. He would.

"Sure," Electra agreed brightly. "We'll get you nice
and clean and fed."

"And we have three animals with us," Mom said.

"They are welcome too," the girl said enthusiastically.
She looked back to where a nondescript young man was
approaching. "There's Dolph now; he'll tell you."

"If you're sure ..." Mom said doubtfully.

Trenita spoke up. "She's sure. That's Princess Electra.
And Prince Dolph."

"Princess?" Karen squeaked.

"Certainly. I should have recognized her by her descrip-
tion. She's very informal. And that's her husband. Prince
Dolph. I made the connection when I heard his name."

Mom had evidently heard and adjusted in the smooth
way of her kind. "We shall be glad to come in, Electra.
But we do have important business, so can't stay long."

"Yes, the Good Magician sent Grey Murphy to attend
to it," Electra said. "He will talk with you as soon as
you're ready. Come on; I'll show you where."

They piled out of the RV. Karen lifted Trenita carefully
down to the floor, and then to ground outside; the imp
lady had made it clear she appreciated such no-fuss assis-
tance in the giant human realm.

"Oh, an imp lady!" Electra exclaimed happily.
"I am Trenita Imp of Erial Village," the woman said
formally. "I guided the Mundane family here. I will not
be able to return immediately, so I hope it is not an im-
position if I remain for a few days."

"Oh, no, it's great having you," Electra said. "We have
lots of space, and you won't take up much of it." She
turned to the prince. "Dolph, why don't you give Trenita
Imp a ride to the magic mirror, so she can tell her village
she's safe?"

The young man became an imp-sized centaur. "Get on
my back, and I'll carry you there," he said.

186   PIERS ANTHONY

"Thank you so much," Trenita said. Karen lifted her to
the creature's back, where she got a good handful of mane

to steady herself.

"But don't get fresh with me, because my wife would

screech," Dolph said, smiling.

"I will not!" Electra screeched afte'r'them. Then she
broke out laughing, and the rest of them joined in. Princess
she might be, but she was obviously a fun person.

"If you don't mind my saying, you are the happiest
Princess I have met," Mom remarked.

"Thank you," Electra said happily.

They followed her to the castle. Karen looked longingly
back at the pie trees, but realized that they would have to
wait, though she was suddenly ferociously hungry.

As they approached the moat, a horrendous green head
rose out of the water. Karen screamed, and the others
stepped back. "Oh, that's just Souffle," Electra said.
"Castle Roogna's moat monster and baby-sitter; he loves
children." She raised her voice. "It's okay. Souffle; the
Good Magician knows about these Mundanes." The mon-
ster nodded and disappeared back under the water.

They crossed the drawbridge and entered the castle. It
was huge, with stone passages leading in assorted direc-
tions. There were tapestries on the walls and thick rugs on
the floors. Karen loved it at first sight.

"Right this way," Electra said, stepping into a side pas-
sage. In a moment they were in a nice bathroom, with sinks

and mirrors and all.

"We really should change our clothes," Mom fussed,

"if we are to meet royalty."

"We already met it," Karen reminded her.

"Wash your face and get your hair done," Mom
snapped. But her tone had no edge.

Soon they were reasonably ready. They returned to the
main hall, where Electra waited. "The King and Queen
will see you now," she said. "Then you can have break-
fast."

Karen was glad of that, and knew the others were too.

YON ILL WIND   187

They entered a spacious hall. There were a number of
people there. "How are we supposed to address them?"
Dad whispered urgently. "We don't wish to give offense,
but—"

"Just speak when spoken to," a voice said beside them,
startling them. Karen looked, but there was only a vase.

There turned out to be no difficulty. The King was strid-
ing toward them, with Trenita Imp on his shoulder.
"Hello, Mister. Baldwin," the King said, extending his
right hand. "I am King Dor. We are very glad to see you."

"You can say that again," the voice said. This time
Karen was sure it was the vase. There must be something
in it.

Dad shook hands with the King. "Thank you, your maj-
esty," he said. "We—"

"Oh, just call him Dor," the vase said. "Everybody
does."

The King smiled. "I should explain that my magic talent
is speaking to the inanimate, and having it answer. At
times it gets rather impertinent. But the vase is correct; we
prefer informality, especially since our business is urgent
and vital to the welfare of Xanth. Standing on ceremony
takes too much time."

"Thank you—Dor," Dad said.

"This is my wife, the Sorceress Irene," the King said.
A rather pretty woman of about Quieta Imp's age stepped
forward. Her hair was distinctly green, much more so than
Chlorine's yellow-green, but less luxuriant.

Dad introduced the members of the family, but it ap-
peared that the King already knew them, or at least Trenita
was whispering them in his ear. Even the pets.

Then the King got to business. "The Good Magician
informs us that you and a woman called Chlorine are able
to help Xanth in a way that no others can, but that you
need a guide to Mount Rushmost, where the winged mon-
sters congregate."

"Winged monsters!" Mom exclaimed.

Queen Irene touched her arm reassuringly. "They are

188   PIERS ANTHONY

not our enemies, in this crisis; they wish to save Xanth as
much as we do. Indeed, Roxanne Roc herself is now fetch-
ing your friends to that place."

"A rock?" Mom asked.

Karen nudged her. "The big birds."

"But the winds are now so high, and the magic dust so
pervasive, that it isn't safe to let the rest of you travel that
way," King Dor said. "So we are arranging for you to
use one of the demon tunnels. However, not all demons
can be trusted, especially in heightened madness, so we

are trying to locate one who can."

"I can do it," a handsome man said, stepping forward.
The King shook his head. "We must keep you here at

Castle Roogna, Prince Vore, as liaison with the demons.

We can trust no one else in this particular crisis."
The man nodded and stepped back. "He's a demon,"

the vase murmured. "Wait till you see his wife. Princess

Nada Naga."

"So we shall now adjourn to the dining room, while we
wait for the demoness to arrive," the King said. "We re-
alize that all this may be somewhat confusing to you, es-
pecially the children, so Jenny Elf will assist you."

A girl no taller than Karen stepped forward. Her ears
were pointed and her hands had only four fingers, includ-
ing the thumb, but apart from that, she seemed normal.
She even had freckles, like Electra's. "I was new to Xanth
too," she said. "I'm Jenny, from the World of Two

Moons."

Karen seized her opportunity. "Can you find us choc-
olate pies to eat, instead of healthy adult stuff?"

Jenny glanced conspiratorially around. "Sure. I'll tell

the kitchen." She slipped out.

They took places at a huge table. Dad, Mom, and Sean
were absorbed in deep discussion with the King and
Queen, not paying attention to anything else, which was a
good sign. They didn't notice when a maid brought choc-
olate pies and chocolate milk for Karen and David, and
dishes of dog, cat, and bird treats for the pets. Jenny Elf

YON ILL WIND   189

joined them, having some pie herself. And her cat, Sammy,
joined the pets, seeming to get along well enough with
Midrange.

Soon they were full to bursting with pie. Boredom was
hovering like a specter. The adults remained oblivions.
"What's there to do around this joint?" David asked in
his crude boyish way.

"Joint?" Jenny Elf asked, perplexed. "Joy'nt Bones is
not here."

"A Mundane term for a lovely castle," Karen said
quickly, shooting a dark look at her half brother. Some-
times she wished he were a quarter brother, or eighth
brother.

"Would you like to meet the children?" Jenny asked.

"No!" David said. He was Being Difficult.

"No, he would rather see the Magic Tapestry," Karen
clarified. "But / would love to meet the children."

"Right this way," Jenny said. She set off across the
hall, and they followed her, and the four animals followed
them, and the adults never noticed their departure.

Jenny showed them upstairs to a pleasant room. There
on the wall was a huge Tapestry, depicting endless scenes
of Xanth. "It will show anything you want," she ex-
plained. "Just concentrate."

David concentrated. Suddenly the entire Tapestry went
dark and stormy, with angry flickers of lightning. There
was the odor of burning hemp, and a faint fuzzy image of
a pair of scorched panties.

"Except Adult Conspiracy stuff," Jenny added.
• "Oh." David did not look pleased. It was all Karen
could do to keep from giggling. Served him right!

Midrange looked at the Tapestry. It clarified into a pic-
ture of the cat-a-pult, a monstrous cat with a basket on its
tail. Then Woofer looked at it, and a pack of wolves ap-
peared, turning human as they came upon a human village.
Then Tweeter looked, and the Tapestry sky filled with
great birds, orienting on some hapless land-bound creature
below.

190   PIERS ANTHONY

Jenny drew Karen away. "That will amuse them for
some time," she whispered. "Sammy will find more in-
teresting things for them, if they don't. He can find any-
thing but home."

But Tweeter saw them going, and flew to rejoin Karen.

That pleased her.

They went to another room, and received a cheery
"Come in!" in response. They went in, and there was
Princess Electra braiding the hair of two sweet little girls
not a whole lot younger than Karen herself. One had
golden light hair, and the other had shadowy dark hair.

"These are Electra's children. Dawn and Eve," Jenny
said. "Dawn can tell anything about any living thing, and
Eve can tell anything about any inanimate thing. They are

both Sorceresses."

"Hi Dawn; Hi Eve," Karen said. She was amazed that
they could be Electra's, because Electra seamed so young

and carefree.

The two little girls turned suddenly shy, letting half a
titter escape. Electra smiled. "They don't see many little
girls here. Ask them to tell you about something animate
or inanimate."

"What about my bird?" Karen asked.

Dawn smiled and lifted her hand. Tweeter flew to it.
"Oh! You are from beyond Xanth," the girl said. "You
were hatched from the third egg in your mother's nest and
taken to a nasty cage, where Karen rescued you, two years
ago." It was clear by the bird's reaction that this was ac-
curate. "Since then you have been happy, except that she
goes away every day and leaves you in a cage."

"I have to go to school," Karen protested. "I'd rather
take Tweeter with me, but the school won't let me."

Tweeter nodded, forgiving her, and flew back to her
hair. Now Karen dug into her pocket and brought out her
nylon comb. She passed it to Eve.

The girl focused on the comb. "You are strange," she
said. "You started as a blob of goo buried deep in the
ground, until a big pipe sucked you up, and you got run

YON ILL WIND   191

through something like a dragon's gut and then got
squeezed out into the form you have now. Karen found
you in a drawer with many other combs just like you, but
now you are the only one for her. Once she lost you under
the—under a moving house—but found you the next
morning. You have combed out forty-one snarls, a hundred
and forty-two tangles, and several thousand curls, but are
ready for more. None of them lived, for some reason."

Karen was impressed. She hadn't counted the snarls and
tangles, but the numbers sounded right. And she had in-
deed once lost the comb under the RV, and found it by
chance in the morning. Eve had gotten all that just from
holding the comb for a moment. "The snarls and tangles
didn't live because they weren't in Xanth," she explained.
"In Mundania, they are just pulled hair."

"Oooo," both twins said with big-eyed horror.

"Why don't you girls go see the triplets?" Electra sug-
gested. "I have to get princessly."

"Sure!" the twins said together, and dashed for the
door. All their shyness had vanished after they demon-
strated their talents. Jenny and Karen followed.

They went to another room. There was a big basket
swinging gently from a tripod. In it were three little babies.
"These are Melody, Harmony, and Rhythm," Jenny said.
"They are too young to show their talents, but we found
out anyway. Whatever they sing and play together will
become real. When they are separate, their individual tal-
ents will be less. But since they'll mostly be together, it's
a very strong talent. The centaur tutors will have a time
making them behave!"

"That's a lot of magic,'1 Karen said, impressed.

"Hello." It was an adult woman whose waist-length
hair was light and very faintly green.

"Oh, hi. Princess Ivy," Jenny said. "We were just ad-
miring the triplets the stork brought you. This is Karen
Mundane."

"So I gathered," Ivy said. "With a bird."

"He's Tweeter," Karen explained shyly. "My brothers

192   PIERS ANTHONY

have a dog named Woofer and a cat named Midrange,
so—" But she saw that the woman didn't understand.
"They're Mundane words."

"I can see why the dog and cat would be named as you
have them," Ivy said. "But shouldn't the cat be

Meower?"

Karen tried again. "In Mundania, a speaker system—
that is, something that makes sounds—has a big cone
called a woofer, and a small cone called a tweeter, and a
middle cone called a midrange. So—"

"Oh, I see!" Ivy exclaimed. "Midrange. How clever."
But she seemed a bit uncertain.

"Let's go see Demonica," Dawn said brightly.

"Yes, she's more fun," Eve said darkly.

They headed for another room. Karen paused. " 'Bye,
Mrs. Ivy," she said politely.

"You're welcome," the Princess said with an obscure
smile as they left.

"When it's the wrong time of the month, we call her
Poison Ivy," Jenny confided in a whisper. Karen would
have laughed, but she wasn't sure it was funny. What did
the time of the month have to do with anything, unless it
meant a holiday?

Demonica turned out to be the half-demon daughter of
Prince Demon Vore, whom they had seen downstairs, and
Princess Nada Naga, a woman who would have popped
Sean's eyes right out of their smoking sockets. She was
rocking her baby as they entered, but was willing to let
Karen hold her. "But aren't you afraid I'll drop her?"
Karen asked.

"No, she would just bounce back up," Nada said.

Karen was set back. "Is that a joke?"

Nada smiled. "No. Demonica's demon heritage pre-
vents her from being physically harmed by such things.
She can become tenuous or solid, as she chooses. She can't
. do it as rapidly as her father can, of course, but it does
protect her. However, I agree; it is better not to drop her."

"She's cute," Karen said, taking the baby. Already De-

YON ILL WIND   193

monica was changing shape, in the way Karen was coming
to understand. Her face was growing larger and her body
smaller, until finally she was nothing but a head. Then she
became light, and floated out of Karen's arms.

Dawn caught her. "I told you she was fun," she said.
"I could tell you everything about her, but everyone al-
ready knows. She'll be even more fun when she's old
enough to play." She rocked the baby in her arms.

"I don't want to ask something stupid," Karen said.
"But—"

"Stupid things are the most fun," Eve said.

That emboldened her. "There seem to be a lot of Princes
and Princesses and little girls here. Is it always this way?"

"That is not a stupid question," Nada said, laughing.
"No, it is unusual. When we received news of the devel-
oping storm, we all felt that the children and babies should
be brought to the safest place in Xanth. So we all came to
Castle Roogna, which is enchanted to protect its occupants,
especially royal ones. So Grey and Ivy came from the
Good Magician's castle, and Vore and I came from my
father. Nabob's, cave, and of course, Electra and the twins
were here to begin with. This is really our first reunion .
since the deliveries. Ivy, Electra, and I have been great
friends since we were girls."

"Oh. I should have realized."

"You had no way to know, dear. Now, as to why all
our offspring are female—that does seem curious. We
think it is just coincidence, and that there Will be males in
due course. But we're happy with what we have."

"So are we," Dawn said. "Boys are a pain."

Karen laughed, agreeing. "I should know. I have two
brothers."

There was a swirl of smoke. Two eyes appeared in it.
"I resent that," the smoke said.

"Hi, Mentia," one of the twins said. "You came in too
late. We weren't calling you a pain."

"We were calling boys a pain," the other said.

"That's what I heard," the smoke said, forming into a

194   PIERS ANTHONY

beautiful woman with her dress on sideways. Karen wasn't
sure how that was possible, but it was the case. "Seeing
as how the stork brought my better half a boy."

"A boy?" Karen asked.

The woman looked at her. "You're new here, aren't
you? So you don't know how my better half, Metria,
moved half of Xanth to get the attention of the stork last
year, and finally served it with a magic summons, so it
had to deliver. So now she has Ted, on whom she dotes.
He will grow up to love children too. Disgusting."

Karen managed to put it together. Demon Mentia—de-
mentia. She was a bit crazy, as her clothing indicated. De-
mon Ted—demented. Demon Vore—devour. She laughed.
These demons had a certain sense of word, just as the imps

did.

"What brings you here, Mentia?" Nada inquired.

"Were you curious about how the other half-demon baby

was doing?"

"That, too," Mentia said. "They should be great play-
mates. Maybe they'll grow up and marry one day. But I
came here because I was summoned. It seems Xanth needs

me."

"Xanth certainly needs something," Nada agreed. "But

I'm not sure it's a crazy demoness. We already have too

much madness stirring up."

"Madness? That's it, then. The madder the environ-
ment, the saner I get."

Nada nodded. "So that's it. Then you had better go see
the King; they've been waiting for you."

"Pronto," the demoness agreed, vanishing in another

puff of smoke.

' 'We had better go down too,'' Jenny said.' 'That means

the journey to Mount Rushmost is about to start."

They left the children and hurried into the hall. A regal
young woman was approaching from the stairway. She
was just about perfect in every way, but there was some-
thing odd about her. "Oh, hi. Princess Ida!" Jenny said.
"This is Karen Mundane."

YON ILL WIND   195

"Yes, I just met her family," Ida said. "I was coming
to fetch you down, Karen."

"But I don't need a Princess to guide me," Karen pro-
tested, embarrassed. The oddness was related to the
woman's head.

Ida smiled. "Think nothing of it. Right now there are
so many Princesses in the castle that we are having to find
ways to make ourselves useful."

Karen finally identified the oddness. There was some-
thing moving around the Princess's head. It looked like a
Ping-Pong ball. "Princess, if you don't mind my asking—"

"You are curious about my moon," Ida said, not at all
offended. "It arrived last year, and I didn't have the heart
to send it away. It's really no trouble, and it reflects my
moods. You may look at it if you wish, but don't try to
touch it, for it will avoid you." She angled her head so
that the plane of the moon's orbit swung down, and Karen
got a good look. The surface was sunny, with little seas
and land masses showing. There were islands and conti-
nents, and ice caps at the poles. A little cloud bank came
into view as the moon turned, and there was a rainstorm
over one section. It was a complete world in itself.

"Oh, how cute!" Karen exclaimed—and the moon
brightened. "What's it called?"

"Why, we don't have a name for it," Ida said, sur-
prised. "What do you think it should be called?"

"Gee, I don't know," Karen said, pondering. Then she
had such a bright idea that a bulb flashed over her head,
brightening the moon further. "Back in Mundania there's
an asteroid called Ida, and it has a little moon, and I
learned in school how they named it Dactyl, which means
something or other. But since this isn't that, it needs an-
other name. So let's call it Ptero."

"Terra?" Jenny asked. "What a funny name!"

"No, it's got a funny spelling. Pee-tee-ee-rr-o. That's
why I like it. You see, there's this sort of dragonlike flying
reptile that used to exist, called a pterodactyl, and this is
a flying moon, so—"

196   PIERS ANTHONY

"That's a wonderful idea," Ida said. "Moon, do you
like that name?"

The moon did a little dance of pleasure. Karen hoped it
didn't shake its rain cloud off.

"So Ptero it is," Ida said. "Thank you for the idea,
Karen. I would not have been able to think of it myself."

"Oh, I'm sure you—" Karen started to protest. But
Jenny jogged her elbow.

"We must go on downstairs," Jenny explained. "Be-
fore they miss us."

Oh. Of course. Karen had been so intrigued by Ida's
moon that she had forgotten that they were supposed to be
going somewhere. They started walking.

"You have a difficult mission ahead," Jenny said. "Do
you think you will be able to reach the top of Mount Rush-
most and convince Fracto to help fight the ill wind?"

"Oh, sure," Karen said confidently. "Dad can do any-
thing he puts his mind to. He's a physics Professor."

"I'm sure he can," Ida agreed. "I'm sure he will be
able to convince Fracto."

Jenny seemed quite pleased about something, and so did
Ptero Moon, though Karen couldn't see what. They
stepped downstairs. Sure enough, everyone was gathering
there. Even David had been dragged from the Tapestry.

"The demon guide has arrived," King Dor announced.

"Hear, hear!" a chair said.

"The mission will be successful!" Jenny exclaimed.
"Fracto will help."

"That is good to know," the King said.

"And Ida's moon is called Ter—Pfter—"

"Ptero," Ida said firmly. "Karen named it."

"Ptero—as in feather or wing?" Dad asked.

"No, as in Dactyl," Karen said.

He laughed. "Surely so. I see you hit it off well with
the Princess."

"For sure!" a rug said.

"That's good," the King agreed, nodding in a signifi-
cant manner.

YON ILL WIND   197

"Yes," Karen said, getting shy again. Had she been too
familiar with Princess Ida?

"Everything's fine," Ida said. "I'm so glad to have a
name for my moon."

Karen was relieved that she had committed no offense.
But she suspected that there was something important she
was missing.

Jim Baldwin saw his daughter's cute confusion, and
wished he could ease it, but .this was not the occasion.
She had done far better work than she knew.

"I think we must be on our way," he said. "We
thank you. King Dor, for your assistance."

"It is we who thank you for yours," the King replied
graciously, and his buxom green-haired wife smiled agree-
ment. "You did not need to risk your family to help
Xanth."

Jim glanced at Trenita Imp, who now sat on Queen
Irene's shoulder. "I think we did, after the hospitality
of the imps, which presaged yours." Trenita smiled.

"It still will not be easy," the King said. "Our best
hopes go with you."

"Yeah, we don't want to get blown away," the King's
crown remarked.

"Let's go," D. Mentia said, floating toward the exit.
She had finally managed to get her clothing on straight,
which was just as well; a demoness might not mind what
she showed, as long as it wasn't her underwear, but it
could be distracting.

r

198   PIERS ANTHONY

They followed her out. The madness had intensified; Jim
could feel its oppressive effect despite the protective am-
biance of the castle. Indeed, this was unlikely to be easy,
despite their seeming assurance that they would succeed.
The King had made that plain. Ordinarily such a trip, with
a demon guide, would be routine, but with the stirred-up
magic dust changing things, nothing was certain.

That applied to Ida's reassurance, too. Princess Ida's
Sorceress-class talent was the Idea; whatever she believed
was true. But the Idea had to come from elsewhere—from
someone who didn't know Ida's magic. That was what
limited it. The elf girl Jenny had cleverly solicited Karen's
innocent endorsement of their mission, and Ida had agreed,
which meant that they would indeed succeed—if the rising
madness didn't interfere. No one knew exactly how the
madness might affect Ida's talent. So the outcome was not,
after all, sure. But he did not care to tell the children that.
Mary and Sean knew, but they would keep silent too.

They got into the RV, with the demoness taking the
front passenger seat so she could show him the way, as
Nimby had before. The sultry creature was now in a tight
clingy sweater and a too-short skirt. He wasn't sure
whether she was trying to flirt with him, or provoke Mary,
or if this was her natural manner of appearance among
humans. "South along the main enchanted path," she said.
"And move rapidly, because the dust is getting worse."

"How can you tell?" he asked her. "Not that I doubt
you, but with the effects of the dust, could that lead you
astray?"

"No. This is why they summoned me. You see, I am
only half a demoness. I am Metria's worser half, and nor-
mally I am slightly crazy, as you may have noted. But I
have been in madness before, and found that it reverses
my nature, making me increasingly sane. I feel that sanity
closing in now. You are Mundanes, so aren't much af-
fected by it, but the surrounding effects will bring mis-
chief. It is best to avoid as much of it as you can."

Half a demoness, who got sane while others got mad.

YON ILL WIND   199

This land never ceased to produce novelties. "How did
you come to separate from your better half?"

"Metria was always a mischievous creature. Then she
got married to a mortal, inherited half his soul, and fell in
love, in that order. I, her soulless crazy aspect, couldn't
stand it, so I fissioned off and had my own adventure.
Unfortunately it led me into madness, and I suffered sanity.
I came to accept Metria's situation, and must confess her
half-demon baby son is cute. So we two halves have rec-
onciled. But because I alone among regular XanAly crea-
tures can handle the madness, the King asked me to help,
and because the rising dust makes me unconscionably sen-
sible, I agreed. You will be able to trust my judgment,
when you can't trust your own."

"Well, I am becoming accustomed to trusting the judg-
ment of inscrutable creatures, after Nimby."
"Who?"

"Nimby is a striped dragon with the head of a donkey
who knows what is going on. He assumes human form
and travels with Chlorine, a beautiful young woman who
was sent to guide us by the Good Magician."

"I don't know her either. What's her talent?"

"Poisoning water."

"Garden variety. But that dragon you describe—there
must be some mistake. He might be able to turn human,

or to know things, but not both. There's a pretty strict limit
of one talent per person."

"I think he said that one was a talent and the other was
inherent."

"Maybe. But I'm pretty sane now, and that sounds
wrong. There is something strange about Nimby."

Jim laughed. "There is something strange about this
whole land!"

"Better than the excruciating dullness of Mundania."
To that he had no answer.

They made good time, and in due course Mentia indi-
cated the tumoff road. "Now we're leaving the enchanted
path," she reminded him. "It may get nasty."

200   PIERS ANTHONY

"I know." There had been a time, two days or two
millennia ago, when he would have laughed at magic. Now
he felt a dread respect for it.

But instead of turning ugly, the scenery turned beautiful.
"Hey, look at the flowers!" Karen cried, peering out her

window.

"Those look like carnations," Mary said. "A whole

field of them."

Mentia looked. "Uh-oh. Those look like re-incamations.
Growing wild and strong in the madness.''

Jim experienced a chill.' 'What magic will they do?''

"Regular ones aren't too bad," the demoness said se-
riously. "Polk sniff one, and have a strong memory of a
loved one. If they sniff several together, they may actually
see and hear the loved one. But this is a whole broad
expanse, strengthened by the magic dust. I think you
should try to avoid smelling them."

"Close the windows!" he called back to the others. But
he was too late; David had opened his. The thick perfume
of the flowers was circulating in the vehicle.

Suddenly Jim saw his father standing by the road, wav-
ing. He slowed to pick him up; he hadn't seen his father

since five years ago, when—

"Keep moving!" Mentia said. "Don't stop. Get on out

of here."

"But that's my father," Jim protested.

"Drive on—or I'll drive for you."

That jolted him out of it for a moment. "A demoness

can drive an RV?"

"Metria learned how, last year, so I know it too. This

thing is similar to a pickup truck. Keep moving."

His father had disappeared, and he realized that it had
indeed been an illusion. His father was dead.

"You didn't stop for Grandpa," Sean said. "Go back,

Dad!"

"He's dead!" Jim said.

Sean was set back. "I forgot. That's weird."

"Oh, like a wraith," Karen said. "Don't believe them."

YON ILL WIND   201

A woman appeared on the road. "Oh, there's my god-
mother," Mary said. "I must talk to her."

Woofer growled.

"No," Jim said grimly.

"But we can't leave her here!" she said, releasing her
seat belt and getting up.

"She's not real," he said, accelerating.

"Jim! I'm surprised at you. How can you say such a
thing?"

"He's right, Mom," Karen said. "It's the magic. Don't
be fooled."

Then they drove beyond the field of flowers, and the
fragrance faded. Mary returned to her seat. * 'Of course that
couldn't have been her," she said. "But she seemed so
real."

"They do," Mentia said. "But if you stop for them, at
this strength of fragrance, you might never get away again.
As soon as you escaped the ambiance of one flower, an-
other would get you. Probably they would have gotten you
anyway, had you been afoot; but in your rapidly moving
truck you were too fast for them. That's why I said not to
stop."

"You were indeed the sensible one," Jim agreed. Mary
nodded, appreciating the ability of the demoness. Sense
was likely to be what they needed most in the next few
hours.

A mountain loomed before them. "That's it," Mentia
said.

"We can't drive up that!" Jim protested, glancing at
her, and catching a considerable eyeful of her burgeoning
cleavage. Where had her sweater gone? Apparently she
had changed into something more comfortable, in her
magic fashion. "This is a recreational vehicle, not a tank!"

"The demon path is inside. I will guide you to it. That
is why I am here."

"Sorry, I forgot." Was that another effect of the dust
of madness? No, probably merely the distraction of her
changingly provocative form. "Where's the entrance?"

202   PIERS ANTHONY

"Follow me." She floated from her seat, through the
windshield, and ahead of the RV.

"Keen creature," Sean remarked, peering ahead.
"Not your type," Mary said, a bit sharply.
Sean did not argue, but it was clear that he believed that
anything that looked like that was his type. Jim couldn't
blame him; the demoness was about as well endowed a
creature as was possible without stretching the masculine
imagination beyond repay. Those entities who could
choose their appearance usually seemed to choose impres-
sively. Chlorine's appearance was chosen, after all.

Actually, he was glad to have Sean's reaction, because
the boy had been unnaturally quiet since his cipse call with
the goblin dam, not evincing much interest in anything.
Jim was afraid he had suffered a concussion or some other
hidden injury when the water swept him away. Now he
was reverting to normal, an excellent sign.

Mentia led them to a large old tree. She pointed to its
trunk. Jim, now having had some experience with such
things, drew the RV slowly up to that trunk, which seemed
to expand, and into it. Sure enough, it was an illusion-
covered aperture. An entry into the mountain.

They entered a dark tunnel. Jim turned on the head-
lights. They speared through Mentia's clothing, silhouet-
ting her shapely body. Then the clothing thickened, and
the effect was lost. The demoness floated back through the
windshield and into her seat. "This spirals up inside the
mountain. Just keep going." She paused. "Those bright
lights caught me by surprise. Did you see—?"
"Outline, no panties," Jim said quickly.
She relaxed. "We do try to honor the conventions. We
don't show panties to anyone we aren't prepared to se-
duce."

"It's nice to have standards," Jim agreed. She didn't

show panties—but she did show everything else. It seemed
that in Xanth the underclothing counted for more than
what it covered. ' 'How is it that the demons maintain this
tunnel, when you can float wherever you wish to go?"

YON ILL WIND   203

"Actually it's an old vole burrow," she confided. "But
we find it handy when we want to spy on the ceremonies
of the winged monsters. They can see us in the outer air,
but not in here."

"There must be mighty big voles in Xanth."

"As big as this truck, in the old days," she agreed.
"Today only the diggle is this big, and it normally doesn't
make tunnels; it simply phases through the rock without
disturbing it."

The passage ahead came to a halt in a pile of rubble.
So did Jim, perforce. "There must have been a cave-in,"
he said regretfully.

"Let me check." She floated out again. She phased
through the rock. Then her arm came back, beckoning him
forward. So it was more illusion.

He nudged forward, and passed through the seeming
pile of stones. Beyond, the tunnel opened up again, curving
up and out of sight. The long climb was upon them.

Mentia floated back. This time she didn't pass through
the windshield, but came to the far door. She gestured to
come in. Her cleavage was so full it threatened to burst its
boundaries.

"I'll get that," Sean said, coming forward. He opened
the door, and the demoness started to enter.

Then a second demoness appeared. This one shot
through the windshield. "Close that door!" she cried.

Startled, Sean paused, looking from one to the other.
Both looked the same, except for the lower decolletage of
the one at the door. "Two of you?" he asked.

Then fangs sprouted in the mouth of the one at the door.
She hissed and her head dived for Sean's arm.

The one inside extended one arm to twice its natural
human length. The hand intercepted the fanged face and
shoved it back out the door. "Close it!" she repeated.
"That's a hostile phantasm."

"But it looked just like you," Sean said, shaken, closing
the door. "Except—"

"No need to explain," Mary said tersely.

204   PIERS ANTHONY

"It can be dangerous to judge by appearances." Mentia
drew her body up to her arm, so that all of her was by the
seat, and sat down.

"Yeah," Karen said from behind.

Jim realized that the demoness had inadvertently taught
Sean a good lesson. He hoped the boy would heed it in
more normal circumstances.

"What's the difference between a wraith and a phan-
tasm?" Karen asked. She was the one who had been led
astray by wraiths, so naturally she was concerned.

"They are similar, but phantasms are more versatile—
and malignant," Mentia said. "And they have some sub-
stance."

"How come the spook had to come in the door, while

you go through the window?" David asked.

"King Dor arranged to have a protective spell put on
this vehicle," the demoness said. "I'm on your side. Or
on Xanth's side, so it lets me pass, but the phantasms are
enemies of the natural order, so they are barred. But if you

let them in—"

"Why not simply lock the doors and ignore all creatures

outside the RV?" Mary asked.

' 'Because you might want to let in a friend, and the spell
has no way to tell friend from enemy, being unintelligent,
so has to go by your judgment. If you decide to let some-
thing in, then you overrule the spell. Sean was letting in
that phantasm." She glanced back at the young man.
"Don't let anything in unless your father or mother tell
you to. Especially if it has unusual sex appeal, or anything
else that's evocative. Your lives may be at stake." Her
sculptured decolletage had been replaced by a conservative
but still quite attractive blouse.

"Got it," Sean agreed, shaken.

"But we were fooled too," Mary said.

"The first time."

Good point. Adults learned well from experience. But
Jim had a concern of his own. "When you go out, we
can't tell you from the imitations. How will we know it's

YON ILL WIND   205

really you signaling us ahead, and not a phantasm? They
could hurt us by misdirecting us and causing the RV to
wreck."

"Um. Let me ponder." The demoness became thought-
ful, her head swelling to twice its normal size. Then she
returned to regular beauty. "I think you will have to come
out with me, next time. Then you will know it's me."

"But then I'll be at risk, outside the enchantment."

"I will try to protect you. A demon has more power
here than the phantasms do, because they are intruders."

"Perhaps in normal times," Jim said. "But these are
not normal times. The dust is strengthening aberrant ele-
ments."

She glanced sidelong at him. "You may be Mundane,
but you are catching on well."

He realized that this was a compliment, and he was un-
wisely flattered. Of course, appearances were not to be
trusted, but she looked just like a supremely beautiful
young woman, and her favor sidestepped his rational mind
to register on a deeper level. "Mundane physics can de-
velop some strange aspects, particularly at the quantum
level," he said. "I am accustomed to thinking rationally
in seemingly irrational settings."

"In my normal state I would not admire that," she mur-
mured.

Implying that in her present artificially sane state she
did. If Mary had been concerned about Sean's fascination
with Chlorine, now she would have a similar concern
about her husband's reaction to Mentia. With perhaps
some reason. He had learned to tune out the occasional
wiles of lovely coeds who tended to admire intelligent
men, or who merely wanted higher grades, but the magic
ambiance was laying siege to his judgment, and his fancy
was testing its limits. The phantasms were not the only
threat this mission posed.

The endless turn of the upward spiral brought them sud-
denly to a division in the tunnel. One fork curved away
left, the other right. "Which one?" he asked.

206   PIERS ANTHONY

"I've got to check," Mentia said, floating out of her

seat.

"And a phantasm will imitate you and signal wrong,"

he said. "Even if I see you, I won't know which one is

the real you."

"Oh. Right. You will have to come out with me. And

we shall have to maintain contact."

"Contact?"
She smiled, evidently well aware of his concerns.

"We'll hold hands." She extended her left hand to take
his right. Then she floated through the windshield, with
only her forearm and hand remaining inside.

Jim knew Mary was watching but holding her peace.
There was, after all, good reason to hold Mentia's hand,
however incidentally suggestive it might be. He opened
the door and slid out, and her arm slid with him, through
glass and metal without impediment. Yet her hand re-
mained solid and warm. It was amazing how she could do
that; he would have thought that a solid hand could not be
supported by an insubstantial wrist or arm. Curious, he
paused to pass his other hand through her seeming arm
flesh, verifying that it was insubstantial. Indeed, the laws
of magic were not those of regular physics.

Then the arm abruptly firmed. "Is there more of me you
wish to touch?" she inquired dulcetly, her blouse becom-
ing translucent.

"Ah, no," he said quickly, embarrassed. He closed the

door and stepped out into the glare of the headlights, still
holding her hand. He knew she was smirking; She might
be increasingly sane, but her basic mischievous nature re-
mained.
They advanced to the fork. He expected the left one to

be the one, because the spiral had been counterclockwise.
But there was solid rock there; the passage was illusion.
He stroked his left hand across the cold hard surface,
amazed; it still looked open. It was as if a perfectly clean
glass wall barred them from a real tunnel. "I would have
driven into this one," he said, chagrined.

YON ILL WIND   207

"Never take illusions on faith," she said.
They walked to the other side, and Mentia put out her

free hand. "That's what I thought," she said.
Jim reached for it—and encountered another glass pane.

"But—"

"They are both illusion," she said. "Now we check
outside their range."

"Outside?"

She led him on beyond the right fork. "Aha." She
squeezed his hand. "It's here."

He felt the streaked stone—and there was nothing. "Il-
lusion stone!" he exclaimed.

"Illusions come in all types," she said. "It can be as
dangerous to mistake a passage for a wall, as a wall for a
passage. But this is unusually sophisticated deception for
phantasms."

"Suggesting that the dust has considerably enhanced
them," he said, "or that some more sapient entity is in-
volved."

"Exactly. So we had better explore a bit more before
trusting the truck to this passage." She drew him through
the seeming rock face and into the tunnel beyond.

This was completely dark. "I can't see," he said.

"Sorry. I'll illuminate." She began to glow. The soft
light seemed to emanate from her person rather than her
clothing, which made for some interesting effects. Since
her clothing was demon stuff as well as her body, he pre-
sumed the effects were intentional.

They walked on through the tunnel. Then Jim's foot
landed on nothing, and he plunged down through the sup-
posedly solid floor. But the demoness's hand held his with
surprising strength, preventing him from falling all the way
into the void. The hand expanded to grasp his whole arm,
and she hauled him back up. He scrambled to set foot back
on the real, as opposed to the apparent, surface, missed,
and found himself caught in her embrace. Her body was
exceedingly sexy against his. "Well, now," she mur-
mured.

208   PIERS ANTHONY

She moved back, carrying him, and his feet found the
rock. He stepped into her and through her, emerging be-
hind her. All of her body was exactly as solid or permeable

as she chose it to be.

"Thank you," he said as he recovered his balance and
mental equilibrium. For it was clear that however seductive
she chose to be, she had in this instance elected to put him
safely onto land. She could have embarrassed him in the

process far more than she had.

"There is a time for games, and a time for business,"
she said. "We can afford no distractions until this mission
is done. Thereafter—" She shrugged, turning to face him.
She still glowed, but now her clothing was opaque. She
had not let go of his right hand; her left had passed through

herself in the same fashion as he had.

"This is evidently not the correct route either," he said.
"There are occasional side passages," she said. "We
aren't sure what the voles used them for, but assume it
was to allow them to pass one another. Presumably they
had no problem with falling, being natural earth-boring
creatures. The main passage is sure to be somewhere."
"I hope so," he said, still shaken from the narrowness

of his escape.

They walked back toward the illusion barrier. From this
side it looked like dirty glass; it was evidently a one-way
illusion: The RV was visible, but its lights were muted, as

if filtered through thick curtains.

Mentia paused. "Before we step back into sight of the
others," she said, extending her right hand toward him.

"If I may."

"May what?" he asked uncertainly.

"Straighten you up somewhat." Her hand became a
small mirror, in which his hair and clothing showed tou-
sled and mussed. Then her hand became a large comb,
which she ran through his hair. Then it became a hand
again, as she straightened his collar. She was prettily busi-
nesslike, reminding him oddly of Mary. "Your wife might
otherwise misunderstand."

YON ILL WIND   209

"Oh. Thank you." He waited while she put him in or-
der. They still held hands; after what he bad seen of the
phantasms, he was not about to let go of her. "How is it
that you have such sensitivity for family relations?"

"For two years I have been the third member of a two-
person couple," she said, smiling darkly. "That has been
instructive in several ways. Third parties are not necessar-
ily welcome."

"For sure." He was embarrassed, and in a moment re-
alized why. "I apologize for wronging you in my thoughts,
Mentia."

"Oh, you thought I might do this?" she asked inno-
cently, and suddenly stepped in close, pressed her provoc-
ative breasts and hips firmly against him, and kissed him.
"For shame."

"For shame," he echoed weakly. Though fleeting, it
had been a kiss of such competence that it left him light-
headed.

"Naturally I wouldn't do a thing like that," she said,
drawing back and disengaging a thigh that had somehow
gotten wedged between his legs. "What do you think I
am—a demoness?"

"I'm afraid I did think something like that." he agreed.
This creature was no one to play games with!

"But if I chose to, I believe I could make an impres-
sion," she murmured.

"I apologize for my apology."

She laughed. "You have a certain poise. Don't be em-
barrassed. I—that is, Metria—have in my day seduced a
married King. I am satisfied to have you know what I
could do, and am not doing, in the interest of Xanth's
welfare. Rationality can be such a curse."

"A curse," he agreed.

They stepped on through the veil of illusion, and into
the glare of the headlights. Jim shaded his eyes from the
brightness, and was able to make out the faces of his fam-
ily peering through the windshield. He waved. Several

210   PIERS ANTHONY

hands waved back. They must have been concerned when
he disappeared.

They walked across to the other side of the tunnel. And
there they found another hidden passage. They explored it
far enough to know that it was the real one, then returned
to the RV. Jim opened the door and climbed in, the de-
moness floating around and through him, to the adjacent
seat. He pulled the door closed.

"We're sure glad you're back. Dad," Sean said. "You
wouldn't believe what the phantasms were pretending."

"Try me," Jim said as he eased the vehicle forward,
and to the left, into the illusion rock wall.

"They pretended they were you and her, kissing," Da-
vid said eagerly. "But we knew it wasn't so, 'cause there
were five or six couples, and we'd seen you go through

the wall."

"And we knew you wouldn't do anything like that any-
way," Karen chimedin.

"Thanks for your confidence," Jim said, shaken in a
new manner. The phantasms had tried to tell on him! They
were getting more clever by the hour, trying psychological
tricks when the physical illusions didn't work. The success
of this mission was by no means assured. In fact, then-
family's survival was not assured. This sometimes pleasant
land of magic was becoming steadily more deadly.

After that the trip became less eventful; apparently the
phantasms had tried their best, but failed, so gone in search
of easier prey. The motor heated with the continued strain
of the climb, but didn't reach the point of quitting, to his
relief. At length they emerged on a moderately sized plain
and came to a stop. It was early afternoon.

The wind was fierce. There was a reddish haze. The sky
itself seemed to bend and sway as if painted on a some-
what flexible dome, and the sun wavered in place. The
magic dust was kicking Up worse. And the plain was a
mesa, with a frighteningly abrupt and deep drop-off.

"Now we have to gather wood, straw, dried animal

YON ILL WIND   211

dung, anything that will bum," Jim said. "We are going
to make a big fire."

"Great!" David cried. He loved fires, the bigger the
better.

"Don't go near the edge!" Mary called as the boy
dashed off.

"Awwww!" David and Karen cried together. But they
heeded the warning, because the drop was awesome.

"Is mere going to be enough to bum?" Sean asked.
"This place seems pretty barren." He seemed to be getting
subdued again; he tended to look around, as if searching
for something indefinite.

"King Dor said we'd get some help," Jim reminded
him. He hoped the King was right.

"Something's coming!" Mary said. "But I fear not
good."

Jim looked. "I fear you are right. I think those are har-
pies."

The awful creatures were battered by the winds, but
compensating, heading for the plateau from the south. Jim
looked around for sticks that could be used as clubs or
staffs. They were going to need defensive weapons, unless

they retreated to the RV—in which case they wouldn't get
their job done.

"I'll check," Mentia said. She assumed the form of a
huge harpy and flew out to meet the dirty birds.

"Something else," Mary said.

This was from the north, and it was huge. In fact, it
looked very much like a roc. No sticks would beat off that
monster! Even the sanctity of the RV might not suffice
against a creature that size.

"Look at that!" Sean exclaimed. "A basket!"
"It must be Chlorine and Nimby," Mary said, relieved.
"They are supposed to rejoin us here."

"Carried by a roc," Jim agreed, remembering. "With
all the other distractions, it slipped my mind."

"The dust does that," she agreed. He wasn't quite cer-
tain what she might mean by it, and didn't care to inquire.

212   PIERS ANTHONY

The monstrous bird glided to a landing on the middle
of the mesa, carefully setting the basket down. From it
three emerged: Chlorine, Nimby, and a splendidly spar-
kling huge chick. The roc folded her wings and settled
down like a huge hen. But her eyes were watchful. They
were the eyes of a mother, or a guardian. Jim had seen

that look on Mary, on occasion.

The family convened and approached the new arrivals
as a group. "Remember," Jim warned the children, "that
bird is sapient. She understands everything we say, and
she is a figure of considerable importance in Xanth. Treat
her like royalty." For this was one of the things that King
Dor had explained. There would be no threats to their mis-
sion, as long as Roxanne Roc was present. It wasn't just
the power of the roc, which was formidable; it was that it
was backed by all the other winged monsters of Xanth—
and indeed, most other creatures, including humans.

Chlorine greeted them with hugs that even the children
didn't seem to mind. She wore an incongruously Mundane
windbreaker jacket that did not succeed in making her less
attractive. Then she made introductions. ' 'This is Roxanne
Roc, the third most important bird in Xanth." She made
a little bow to the roc, who nodded her head affirmatively.
"And this is Sim, short for the Simurgh Junior, the second
most important bird in Xanth. Roxanne is minding him for
his mother, the most important bird, the Simurgh. We all
will protect Sim with our lives, if necessary."
"Yes," Jim agreed for the family.
Chlorine turned to face the roc. "And this is the Mun-
dane family Baldwin: Jim, Mary, Sean, David, Karen,
Woofer, Midrange, and Tweeter. May the animals play

with Sim?"
The huge head nodded. Jim was surprised by the trust

shown, but realized that Roxanne, too, had been briefed.
The three pets were now intelligent and disciplined, and

they also understood.

The lustrous chick stepped forward. He was about
Woofer's size, and his every baby feather gleamed irides-

YON ILL WIND   213

cently in the sunlight as he moved. "Cheep!"

"Woof."

"Meow."

"Peep."

Then all four fell over laughing. It seemed that either
they had shared some animal joke, or were all in excellent
humor.

Now Menda appeared, coalescing from a swirl of
smoke. "Oh, hello, Roxanne," she said. "I'm Menda, Me-
tria's worser half. We met during your trial."

The huge head nodded again, remembering.

The demoness turned to Jim. "The harpies aren't here
to fight; they're bringing wood for the fire. Word has really
gotten around. Nobody wants Xanth to be blown away."

Indeed, Jim saw that the dirty birds were swooping over
the edge of the mesa and dropping sdcks of wood. That
would be a great help. "Thank them fy us," he said.

"I did. They say that more winged monsters will be
coming with more fuel. This is their sacred meeting place,
and it's under chronic truce; no quarreling here unless
someone really asks for it. So you won't have to fear the
monsters, but don't push your luck."

"That's a relief," Mary murmured. She had been
watching the children and pets somewhat warily, sxactly
as the roc was. They were playing a game of lines and
boxes in the sand, taking turns drawing the lines and
scratching in the X's, and all were similarly intent.

"If you will excuse me, I have a job to do," Jim said.

Mary looked doubtful. "I should help you," she said.
But she was evidently reluctant to leave the children and
pets unattended.

"I'll help you," Menda said.

"So will I," Chlorine said.

Then, of course, Sean was interested, and Nimby. But
Mary did not look reassured.

Menda floated over to her. "This is the safest place in
Xanth for children," she said. "Roxanne guards Sim, and
anyone Sim associates with, and all other winged monsters

214   PIERS ANTHONY

and most of the rest of Xanth supports her in this."

"We know," Jim said.

But Mary wanted more specific reassurance. She looked
at Nimby, who nodded. "Then I will join you," she said,
clearly relieved.

So was Jim. It was not that he minded the proximity of
lovely creatures like Mentia and Chlorine, but he felt easier
if Mary was also close. And he shared Mary's concern
about Sean, who was too obviously intrigued by those
same creatures, neither of whom was exactly shy with
men.

They went to the growing pile of wood. The harpies had
gone, but other winged monsters were bringing more:

dragons, griffins, and some he couldn't exactly classify.
Some were of considerable size, but they were all business;

they dropped their loads and flew on.

But the wind was still rising, and the haze of magic dust
was thickening. He saw how it affected the flying crea-
tures, who were becoming increasingly unsteady, as if on
mind-altering drugs. He felt just enough of the effect to
appreciate its likely potency on the magical creatures. A
significant part of the reason this mission had been given
to a Mundane family was its lack of magic: not only could
Jim and the others not do any magic, they were resistant
to its effects. So, like the sane demoness, they could carry
through while others were going crazy.

Many hands did make light work. Soon they had a fine
bonfire going, sending up an enormous plume of roiling
smoke. Now the winged monsters brought buckets of wa-
ter, which they dumped at Jim's directive. This made a
huge hissing, and added swirling steam to the mix. The
result was a burgeoning cloud that loomed over the plateau
and extended beyond it as the wind tugged at its fringes.

Magic dust infused the cloud, animating it. A gaseous
face formed, glaring around. Jim would have thought he
was imagining it, but the others saw it too. "Make a
noise!" he yelled at it. "Show us what you're made of,
fogface!" For even the inanimate, even illusions, had feel-

YON ILL WIND   215

ings in this magical realm. He had come to appreciate that
when he had seen Sean and Karen employ mockery to
drive off ugly illusions.

The cloud obliged by rumbling.

"You can do better than that!" he told it. "What kind
of a wisp of vapor are you?"

This time the roar of sound was explosive. It could
surely be heard for many miles. Which was the point.

Then there was a sound behind him, of a different na-
ture. He looked, and saw Roxanne Roc taking off.
"Where's she going?" he asked, alarmed.

Nimby wrote a note. Che and Cynthia Centaur are get-
ting blown away by the ill wind, so Roxanne is rescuing
them. Che is Sim's tutor.

Oh. Of course the sparkling chick would need compe-
tent education, so had a centaur tutor. And the wind was
now so fierce and dusty that even the dragons had sought
refuge on the mesa. They had done their part; the smoke/
steam/dust cloud was now a hovering monster.

"Who is watching the children?" Mary asked sharply.

Who, indeed? They hurried across to where the children
and animals were still engrossed in their game. There was
a huge dragon matron watching them, wisps of fire show-
ing as she breathed. It seemed that the roc had arranged
for a substitute.

Jim and Mary turned back to the bonfire. Only in Xanth
would parents see a dragon looming over their children,
and depart with confidence!

Then a speck appeared on the horizon. It grew rapidly.
It was the roc, clutching a tiny creature in each great set
of talons. As she came closer, they saw that each creature
was a young winged centaur, one male, the other female.
Each would have been about eleven years old, in human
terms.

"We had better meet them," Mary said. Jim agreed, and
they turned back.

Roxanne landed, simultaneously depositing the two cen-
taurs safely on the ground. Demoness Mentia appeared.

216   PIERS ANTHONY

"Che and Cynthia Centaur," she said, introducing them.
"Jim and Mary Mundane."

"We heard how you turned back to help Xanth," Cyn-
thia said. She was a pretty thing, whose brown tresses
matched her equine hide. She was bare-chested, but not
(quite) yet developed.

Che looked at the child and pet game. "This may be an
opportune time for a math lesson," he remarked.

"You're teaching that chick math already?" Jim asked,
surprised.

"He is a very bright bird, and he has a great deal to
learn," Che said.

"He has to know everything in the universe by the time
he's mature," Cynthia added.

Jim nodded. "Agreed. That is a great deal. But can you
teach math when your judgment is being distorted by the
growing madness?"

"Quantum math," Che said. "Insanity is an asset to that
study."

Startled, Jim had to agree. Centaurs were indeed ex-
tremely intelligent.

"Say, where's Gwenny Goblin?" Mentia inquired.
"Don't you have to be her Companion?"

"She released me from that obligation," Che said. "She
is grown-up now, with good vision and posture, and she
governs Goblin Mountain, so is in no further danger of
awkward questioning. But we shall always remain close
friends, and I expect to visit her often. Sim should like to
meet her, too, in due course."

"It works for me," the demoness agreed.

The centaurs went to join the young folk, and Jim and
Mary returned to the bonfire. "Do you think this is going
to work?" she asked worriedly.

"If it doesn't, we'll be left stranded on a mesa with no
safe way down," he said evasively.

She did not challenge that. They came to the fire, which
was still burning smokily, but now the wind was so strong
that the cloud was being blown away as fast as it formed.

YON ILL WIND   217

Had it been enough? There would be no more wood; the
winged monsters could no longer dare fly, and were now
too crazy anyway. The madness had them writhing on the
ground and growling at nothing.

Actually, Chlorine was looking somewhat distorted,
though Nimby seemed unaffected. Jim kept seeing fantas-
tic things with his peripheral vision, which faded when he
looked directly at them. The madness was laying siege to
them all.

"Look!" Chlorine cried. "Fracto!"

And there, on the horizon to the north, was the edge of
a looming black cloud. Fracto was coming! The manifes-
tation of a rival cloud had gotten the mean mist's attention.

The magic dust enhanced Fracto, too. In two and a half
moments the baleful cloud expanded to ugly proportions.
Purple blisters swelled and burst. Gray-green depths turned
brown-black. They became malignant eyes. A cruel mouth
formed. There was a whistle of wind as it inhaled, getting
ready to blow out an icy blast.

It was time to act. "Fracto!" Jim called. "Cumulo
Fracto Nimbus, King of clouds. Listen to me! I have a deal
for you."

The cloud hesitated, surprised. The blast did not come.

"Xanth is in trouble," Jim called. "Xanth needs your
help."

The mouth resumed inhaling. Fracto did not care about
Xanth's welfare.

"We can offer you something really nice," Jim called.

The cloud paused again. The eyes narrowed. A curl of
mist formed in the shape of a question mark.

"Romance! Another storm, only .female." This sounded
crazy, but it was a crazy situation. King Dor had reviewed
it carefully with him, and now he retained sufficient sanity
to carry it through. "Not this smoke cloud. That was only
to get your attention. A real storm, the strongest Xanth has
seen. Ideal for you."

The spongy face showed definite interest. Fracto seldom
had any prospect for compatible companionship. He must

218   PIERS ANTHONY

be really hungry for it. The mouth formed a perfect 0 and
a gust of wind emerged. He was asking WHO? .

"Her name is Happy Bottom," Jim called. "She's from
Mundania."

The cloud face recoiled.     .

"No, wait! She is no longer Mundane. She has swept
up a lot of magic dust and become magic. But she doesn't
understand it, doesn't know how to use her new power.
She is wasting it with random blowing, not realizing her
potential. She's becoming so strong she's going to blow
Xanth away. Then she'll fade, of course. But with proper
instruction she could leam to be the kind of magic storm
she could be, with all that magic dust, and turn Xanthian.
But she will need a teacher-—and only you have the ca-
pacity to teach her this. Only you can tame this shrew.
Only you can calm yon ill wind. If you do, you will have
a wonderful female of your kind. I leave the rest to your
imagination." He wasn't sure just how much imagination
a cloud could have, but it was clear that this cloud was
conscious.

Fracto considered. Then the mouth formed another
shape, more like OW. That would be HOW?

"We must work together," Jim said, relieved that the
dialogue was going well. "We must push Happy Bottom
away from the concentration of magic dust, but we can't
make her go in any particular direction. You must do that,
by luring her into the Region of Air. Once she is there she
will not know how to escape, until you teach her how. She
will be yours to seduce."

The cloud considered. Fracto was definitely interested.
But obviously uncertain about trusting a mortal creature.
The mouth formed a windy 00. That would mean TRUE?

How could he prove he was speaking the truth? He
couldn't blame the cloud for being suspicious. Fracto had
no friends, and a Mundane mortal was the least likely per-
son to believe. Fortunately, King Dor had prepared him
with this answer too. "Here is a contract," he called, un-

YON ILL WIND   219

rolling a large poster. "Signed by the Good Magician him-
self."

A gust of wind swept the paper out of his hand. It flut-
tered through the air toward the cloud. But wasn't being
lost. Fracto was reading it.

Then the face changed. It became less threatening, more
agreeable. The mouth opened. ESSSS, it blew.

Fracto had agreed to the deal! Now all they had to do
was work out the details.

Jim settled down to those, explaining how they would
take Chlorine behind Happy Bottom and use the wind-
breaker to drive her forward. Fracto would beckon her to-
ward the Region of Air in north central Xanth. It would
be a job, but they should be able to herd and lure her there,
if they made no mistakes. He was buoyed by the progress
already made. Soon enough they would complete this mis-
sion, and then be able to go home to Florida. He looked
forward to the return of familiarity.

12
WILLOW

Sean stamped out the last of the fire in his section,
near the edge of the plateau, and turned to look after
the dissipating trail of smoke. They had done it; they
had made the signal and summoned the cloud and done
the deal. Of course, there would still be some work for
someone before the ill wind was contained, but the comer
had been turned. Xanth would be saved, and they would
go home. It had been interesting and even fun, but he was
ready to return to dull Mundania.

Yet there was something lacking. Why should he be

220   PIERS ANTHONY

ready to go home, when lovely Chlorine was here? And
that supersexy demoness, Mentia? He should want to see
as much of both of them as possible, though he knew that
neither was for him. They were just dream material, pinup
fancies—but when had unavailability ever stopped him be-
fore? He should want to catch every last glimpse he pos-
sibly could. Yet he didn't; somehow he had lost interest.
Oh, he was showing some interest, but that was because
the other members of the family had begun to glance at
him strangely, and he realized that they would figure he
was sick if he didn't strive for every last glimpse of hidden
female flesh. But his heart was no longer in it.

Was it the rising madness in the air? It didn't affect
Mundanes much, because of their determined unmagical-
ity, but it did have some effect. He was feeling light-
headed, and some things he knew were straight, like the
surface of the ground, seemed wavy or insubstantial. But
that was perception; it shouldn't deplete his normal young-
man interest in beautiful women. Neither should it give
him an inexplicable sense of loss.

He walked to the far side of a lingering smudge of
smoke and used its cover to answer a brief call of nature.
In a moment he faced back toward the RV and the others.
He stepped around a deep hole in the ground that* might
or might not be illusion. His job here was done; it was
time to rejoin the family.

Then something appeared at the brink of the drop-off,
catching the comer of his eye. He looked, realizing that
one of the monsters might be returning from a scouting
flight. For an instant he thought it was a harpy, for it was
a winged female, but then he realized that its body was
fully human, and clothed. It was a winged girl!

She rose above the plateau level and moved forward.
Now he saw that she was terminally tired; her wings were
fluttering weakly, and her head was lolling. She had ex-
hausted her strength, flying up to the mesa in this stiffening
wind.

YON ILL WIND   221

Her dainty feet touched the ground. Her wings folded
and she fell to her knees.

Sean went to help her. She was so delicate, so vulner-
able, that he had to do something. "Are you all right?"
he asked, extending one hand.

Her weary head turned. She looked into his face.
"Sean!" she cried, and collapsed. Into the hole he had just
avoided.

Sean's whole world changed in that instant. "Willow!"
he cried, and leaped in after her. He caught her as they
landed on a pile of soft debris that glowed slightly. His
mind was reeling.

"Oh, Sean, you remember," she breathed. "I feared
you would not."

"You called my name," he said. "Everything came
back. But how could I ever have forgotten?"

"You walked through a Forget Whorl," she said. "I
followed you here—"

"Now I know what I was missing," he said. "It was
you. Willow. I love you." He kissed her, and savored the
overwhelming sweetness of the returning memory.

They had stopped where the water flooded the trollway.
The goblins had dammed the Crimea River, causing it to
back up and drown out the bridge and road so that the RV
couldn't safely pass. Dad had taken the branch of super
cherry bombs down toward the dam, then left them with
Sean and Mom while he went ahead to explore the dam
for the best place to put the charge. But he had gotten
caught by the goblins. They had been going to float the
bombs down to the right spot, so as to be well clear of
the explosion, but when Dad got caught, Sean knew he
couldn't wait for that. David made a distraction so that
Sean could do what he had to do. So he grabbed the whole
branch of cherries and made for the dam, and just tossed
them on it, and dived for cover.

The blast had thrown him away, stunning him. But he
must have landed in the water, because suddenly he was

222   PIERS ANTHONY

choking and floundering. Fortunately he was a good swim-
mer, so after a moment of disorientation he managed to
stroke strongly for the shore.

But he didn't know exactly where the shore was. Rush-
ing dirty water was everywhere, carrying him along. There
were branches in it, from the blown dam, jostling and get-
ting in the way. Weakened by the shock of the close ex-
plosion, he was tiring. Where was the shore?

A figure flew above him. It was a large bird—no, a girl!
A winged girl. "Here!" she cried, pointing ahead.

She must know. So he followed her, and soon threaded
his way through the maze of debris to the shore. But in
the process he wore himself out. The adrenaline that had
kept him going drained away, and .he sank down in the
muck at the edge.

The girl flew down to help him. "You must get clear,
because more is coming," she said. She put her little hands
under his shoulders and tried to lift him up. But instead
her feet slipped in the mud, and she landed beside him,
thoroughly grimed.

"Your wings!" he exclaimed, appalled. The nice white-
ness was hopelessly soiled.

"I can wash them. Come on." She tried again to lift
him up, putting her arm around his waist. "Hurry."

Now he heard a change in the background, noise of the
flowing water. Indeed, the channel was shifting; it was
probably cutting a more direct course through the terrain,
and would catch him again. He hauled himself up with her
help and staggered on. Her body was quite slender, and
her support was more moral than physical, but he did ap-
preciate it.

They reached a steep bank and used saplings to haul
themselves up just as the water surged through behind
them. They were safe for the moment. "Thanks," he said.
"I probably would have drowned."

"Yes. I didn't know who you were, but it didn't seem
right to let you drown, when I could help." She paused,
cocking her head. "Who are you?"

YON ILL WIND   223

"I am Sean Baldwin."

"Sean from where?"

He smiled. "That's my surname."

"Your sir-name? Are you royal?"

He laughed. "Far from it! I'm Mundane."

She shrank away. "Mundane!"

"Well, that doesn't mean I'm a bad person," he said.

"It doesn't?"

"You must have heard some bad'stories about Mun-
danes. We aren't all like whatever you've heard."

"I hope not," she said.

He looked at her. Under the gobs of mud she was a
pretty young woman, with fair hair to her waist, tiny hands
and feet, and rather well proportioned in between. Her face
was elfin, with enormous green eyes. "Please, I hope to
persuade you that you haven't done wrong to rescue me
from the torrent. Will you tell me who you are?"

"Oh, of course," she said, flushing. "I am Willow Elf."

"You're an elf? Like Jenny?"

"Jenny? Where is her elm?"
• "Elm?"

"Her elf elm. All elves associate with particular elms.
That's how we are identified."

"I don't think she has an elm," he said. "She's from
the World of Two Moons."

"No elm? She must be strange indeed."

"Well, she does have pointed ears and four fingers."

Willow held up one hand, which definitely had five
digits, then touched an ear, which was round. "It must be
a very odd world. All Xanth elves are like me, except for
some things."

"Oh? What things?"

"Well, my tree is a winged elm. So we have wings,
unlike other elves. My tree is very large, so we are very
large."

"Large? You seem beautifully petite to me."

"Large for an elf. Most are far smaller than we are.
They are also bound much more closely to their trees."

224   PIERS ANTHONY

"Bound to their trees?"

"You don't know?"

"Remember, I'm Mundane. I am supremely ignorant."

"Oh, of course," she agreed seriously. "All elves are
bound to their elms. Close in, they are very strong, but
they weaken as they go away from their trees, until they
are too weak even to live. So they have no territorial am-
bitions, but even an ogre would hesitate to try to abuse an
elf elm, because the elves there would be stronger than he
was."

"You are weak away from your tree?"

"Yes. But it's not nearly so pronounced for flying elves,
so we can go quite far. I think it's because our tall tree
presents a direct line of sight far afield, with no interfer-
ence by mountains, houses, or vegetation. Nevertheless, we
are subject to the constraints of distance. At the edge of
Xanth I would hardly be able to stand, while beside my
elm I could carry you in the air with one hand. The vari-
ation is much less extreme than for other elf species, and
it enables us to fly freely. My elm is in east central Xanth,
so I'm in-between here, neither strong nor weak. Other-
wise I might have been able to help you more."

"You helped me enough," he said. "I really appreciate
it. I used cherry bombs to destroy the goblin dam, but got
caught by the rush of water."

"We don't like goblins very well," she said.

"We don't like them at all." He looked around. The
rushing water was subsiding. ' 'I had better get back to my
family."

"And I had better get back to my elm," she said.

"Thank you again for helping me. I don't know how to
repay you."

"Oh, I do not seek repayment," she said, flushing again.
"It was a thing of the moment. Normally we don't interact
with humans at all; we're very shy. But I couldn't let you
drown."

"I understand. I would have done the same for you, had

YON ILL WIND   225

you been the one in trouble, and not just because you're
a pretty girl."

"Oh!" she cried, flushing much worse.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to be of-
fensive."

"Nobody ever called me pretty before. I'm a quite or-
dinary female of my kind, and I'm covered with mud."

Oh. He realized that she had not been joking about being
shy. "Maybe you just look better to me because you
helped me. And the mud is my fault. Is there a pool or
something nearby where we could wash up? Before going
our separate ways, I mean?" He was concerned about re-
turning to his family as dirty as he was, because Mom
would throw a fit about the upholstery in the RV, but he
also found himself not too eager to leave this interesting
creature immediately. It was a long shot, but he might get
to see more of her, if they washed up together.

"I did see a pool close by," she said. "If you don't
mind the delay—"

"I don't mind."

So she led the way to the pool she had spied. It was
small but attractive, with sparkling clear water.

Willow began to remove her dress, then hesitated. "I
have heard that Mundanes are very—I don't mean to be
offensive, but—do you object if I strip?"

"Not at all," he said gallantly. He remembered the
time he had skinny-dipped with friends. Was he going to
get to do it with this lovely little lady? "Do you object if
lalso—?"

"Of course not. How else can you get clean?"

He laughed, relieved. "No way else. But I warn you, I
won't be able to help looking at your body."

She smiled, and pulled her dress off. He wondered about
her lack of reticence about her panties, but in a moment
understood: she wore none. In Xanth, it seemed, nakedness
was no problem, just underclothing. Her nudity was not
only natural, but exquisite; it was the way he imagined
Chlorine would look, only Willow was more, well, wil-

226   PIERS ANTHONY

lowy. Suddenly he liked slendemess very. well.

So he pulled off his clothing, and joined her in the pool
quickly, because he did not want to stand exposed and
maybe embarrass himself with a male reaction. The water
was just right, neither hot nor cold. It caressed his bare
skin in a special manner, making it feel wonderfully good.

Willow turned to face him, sweeping her hair behind so
that her small but perfect breasts were clear. ' 'Shall I wash
your back?" she asked innocently, meeting his gaze for
the first time since entering the water. Then she froze.

Sean froze too. He had been admiring Willow's body
and face; now that admiration exploded into an over-
whelming emotion. Beautiful? She was ravishing! It was
as if she were framed in glorious light, with the sweetest
possible music playing in the background.
"Oh, no!" she cried. "It's a love spring!"
A love spring. He had heard those mentioned. "You
mean we're—?" But there was no need to say more, for
he already knew it was true. He loved her.
"I never thought—" she said, chagrined.
"Do—do you feel the same way I do?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, moving toward him. "I love you.

But—this—we can't—"

"And I love you," he said, meeting her halfway.
"Though we are of two different worlds."

"We shouldn't do this," she said, putting her arms
around him. His own arms circled her, passing beneath the
feathery softness of her wings.

"I know." He kissed her. Half the dreams he might ever
have had were realized in that moment.

After an eternity, she drew her face away just enough
to speak. "You are Mundane. I am magical. We can not

be together."

"How can we be apart?" He kissed her again, and she

met him avidly.

"In time the spell will fade," she said as they broke for

breath.

"How much time?"

YON ILL WIND   227

She considered. "About four years. I think. But often
the magic love is replaced by natural love in that time, so
there may be no escape other than separation."

"I couldn't stand that." He was about to kiss her again,
but this time she beat him to it.

"Neither could I," she said after another precious
pause.

"Oh, Willow, I know this is all magic, but I—don't
even want to say what I want to do with you." That was
the other half of his dreams, not yet realized.

"I want to do it too," she said. "The storks get a lot
of business from love springs. But I beg you to wait while
we consider alternatives."

"Anything you ask of me, I want to do," he said. He
made a supreme effort and withdrew from her. "But I
can't stop loving you."

"I am making the greatest effort of my life to be ob-
jective," she said. "I—I believe I would die in your realm.
You—would not be comfortable in mine. Your people and
my people would oppose our union. We would be pariahs.
Our love can't be."

"Yet it is," he said.

"So we must end it. I think there is a way."

"Oh, Willow—"

"We know it is not natural," she said. "We know it
can't work. So we must be sensible. If there is a way to
get us out of love, that is best."

"That is best," he echoed. "But I hate the very notion."

"So do I. But we are not brainless or soulless creatures.
We know what is right, and we have the will to do right.
So we must do it."

He didn't want to,'but he forced out the words. "How
can we cancel our love?''

"I saw an old Forget Whorl nearby."

"A what?"

"A fragment of the original Forget Spell on the Gap
Chasm. It broke up at the Time of No Magic, but some
Whorls remain. They are invisible, but I could tell, because

228   PIERS ANTHONY

I saw insects fly though it and lose their bearings."

"It—makes you forget?"

"Yes. They used to make any creature who passed
through them forget everything, but now they are good for
only half an hour or so. That is, the creature forgets the
last half hour he has lived. And that amount of time—"

"Would make us forget our love!" he exclaimed.

"Would make us forget our love," she agreed sadly.
"Please understand, this is not a thing I want to do, but I
think it is best, for us both. My rational mind is at war
with my emotion, and I have always prided myself on

being sensible."

"So have I," he said. "So I guess we shouldn't do
anything that we might regret when we are out of love."

"Yes. I'm glad you understand."

"I understand that I don't want to mess up your life,
and if loving you will do that, I should try to stop loving
you." He smiled grimly. "But it gripes me that maybe the
hardest, noblest thing I will ever do in my life—-I won't

remember."

She nodded, agreeing about the irony, for them both.

"Let's get clean," she said. "The spring can not do any-
thing more to us. Then we can go to that whorl."

"Yes." He was clamping down as hard as he could on
his emotion. "But you know, I think if I had gotten to
know you without the love spring, I could have loved you
anyway, because you are a remarkably smart and sensible
woman, as well as being lovely."

"Thank you," she said as she scrubbed his back with
her gentle hands. "Observing your restraint, when I know
the desire you feel, I suspect I could have loved you, too,
despite your origin. And you are not unhandsome."

"Thank you." He turned, and she turned, and he did
her back, working carefully around her lovely wings, and
splashed water on the feathers until they were clean too.
Then they both ducked under the surface to get their hair
clean. Finally they hauled their clothing into the water and
rinsed it, and donned it wet.

YON ILL WIND   229

They waded out of the spring, and Willow led the way
to the Forget Whorl. It was, as she had said, invisible, but
he believed she knew whereof she spoke. "Who goes
first?" he asked, half hoping she would change her mind.

"I can readily fly home, now that my wings are clean.
But you are in a strange land. I would prefer to watch, and
make sure you are safely reunited with your family, before
I go through that Whorl. Then I will be able to be in peace,
I think."

"So be it." He looked at her. "But can we—one last
time?"

She flung herself into his arms and kissed him several
times. Then she hauled herself away. "Now go, quickly,
before I shame myself and do what I must not," she said,
tears streaming down her cheeks.

He nerved himself, turned away from her, and strode
toward the Forget Whorl. Part of him hoped it wouldn't
work.

"But it did work," he said, concluding his intense mem-
ory. "I found my way back to the RV, and never thought
of you again."

"I know," she said. "I watched you." The tears he
remembered were still on her face.

"But why are you here?" he asked.

"When I returned to the Forget Whorl, it was gone,"
she said. "I think it was in its last stage, very faint, and
'you used it up. So I could not forget."

"Oh, no," he groaned. "I should have let you go first."

"No, my love. I would not have you suffer so."

They kissed again. "But how is it that I remember,
now? And why did you follow me?"

"Once you complimented me on my sensibleness, but
perhaps it was unwarranted. I was able to rein my emotions
for the time we were first together, but not thereafter. I
wanted you so much—" She shrugged. "I did try. I flew
home and talked to my family, and to the elders of our
tree. They knew of no other Forget Whorl I could use.

230   PIERS ANTHONY

And they pointed out something I had not thought of: that
if the Whorl was so close to extinction when you used it,
it might not have done the full job. You might come to
remember, after some time had passed. Then I would have
done you no favor. So they suggested that I do two things.
First, that I meet you again, to see whether the forgetting
held. If the sight of me made you remember, men you
would have remembered later on your own. But if you did
not remember, then the spell was holding, and you would

be safe."

"It did not hold," Sean said. "It was weakening before

I saw you; I know that now."

"Yes. For your sake I hoped it would hold, but for my
sake I hoped it would not. I was shamefully selfish.''

"Shamefully," he agreed, kissing her again. "But what
now? We still are not right for each other."

"We still are not right," she agreed. "I think we shall
have to go to the Good Magician for the Answer. He surely

has potions—"

"Damn it!" he swore, noting peripherally that he had
managed to override the Adult Conspiracy on that one.
Maybe it was because love was adult business. ' 'We tried
to do the right thing. Why must we try again? Is our love

really so wrong?"

"Not wrong—unworkable," she clarified. "You must
return to your realm, and I must remain in mine."

"But hasn't this sort of thing ever happened before?
How do other forbidden couples work it out?"

She smiled wanly. "When animals meet at a love
spring, they simply summon the stork and go their ways.
When human variants do, they try to make the best of it.
But I'm not sure that those unions work out as well as
normal love does. Sometimes there are unfortunate reper-
cussions. But none of them have had the problem we do:

a Xanth/Mundane liaison."

"I would be willing to stay in Xanth, to be with you."
"But you have no wings. You can't fly. You can't go

where I go."

YON ILL WIND   231

"If you want to fly away from me, I can't stop you,"
he said. "And wouldn't if I could. I would never want you
to be tied down."

"But I would be tied down—by love," she pointed out.
"So I think the Good Magician is our alternative, though
he does charge horrendously for his information."

"I suppose you're right. But we can't do that until the
present crisis is over. First Xanth has to be saved; then our
incidental problem can be dealt with."

"Are you being ironic?"

"You bet I am! What do we do in the interim?"

' 'Not what we would like to do. The constraints are still
upon us."

"I wish we could just forget those!"

She gazed levelly at him. "If it is your choice, I will
not deny you, Sean."

"I know you won't." He understood all too perfectly.
She could stop herself from thowing herself at him, but
would lack the will to resist his approach. Just as he could
restrain himself, but could never actually push her away,
if she—"But I think I must deny myself. Let's get out of
here; at least I can introduce you to my folks."

"But how could they approve of me?"

"How could they not? We'll just have to explain the
situation."

"Yes, as I did to my people," she said sadly. "They
were horrified. They understood getting caught in a love
spring, but not with a Mundane. They chided me for my
carelessness."

Sean laughed. ' 'They were right. You should have flown
right past, when you first saw me."

"And let you drown? How could I?"

He shook his head. "You know, you're not doing any-
thing to discourage my love. You're a lovely person."

She flushed in that fetching way he remembered. "Nei-
ther are you discouraging me."

They embraced and kissed again. But then he forced
himself to pull partway away. "If we don't get out of here

232   PIERS ANTHONY

soon, all our noble resolutions will count for nothing."
"Yes." She grimaced cutely and pulled the rest of the

way away.

He looked around the cave, then up at the hole in the

sky that was the cave entrance. It was too high, and the
walls were too steep, for them to reach. He considered
lifting her up on his shoulders, but even so it was too high.
The cave was too narrow for her to spread her wings, so
she couldn't fly out, either. They were definitely stuck.
"We've been here for maybe half an hour," he said. "I
wonder why my folks haven't come to check on me."

"That's true," she agreed, surprised. She glanced at the
eye on her wrist. "In fact, an hour, I was so glad to be
with you again that 1 lost all track of time. Surely they

would not depart without you."

"Surely they would not," he agreed, "It should have
taken them maybe five minutes to realize I was gone, and

five more to check."

"It is almost as if—yes! There it is!"

"There what is?"
"A thyme bomb. See, there's the sprig of thyme." She

pointed to a dried-up leaf lying on the cave floor.

"Let me guess," Sean said. "In Xanth, thyme plants
affect time, so when you get close to one—''

"Yes. Usually the living plants slow things down, and
their seeds speed them up. But when leaves get separated
and dry out, their effect reverses, and they stretch time out,
in the manner of the seeds. So time expands explosively
in their vicinity, and we call them thyme bombs. Usually
they are harmless, because all folk have to do is walk away

from them. But—"

"But we can't," he finished. "So we're stuck in the fast

lane."

"In a cave," she corrected him gently.

He didn't bother to clarify his reference. "So how do
we get away from it, so we don't die of hunger before

anyone finds us?"

"Oh, I can nullify it," she said brightly, "I have a nap-

YON ILL WIND   233

sack in my purse." She produced a small purse and rum-
maged in it, pulling out all manner of things: clothing,
slippers, fruits, a mirror, a fancy hat, a bedroll, and a col-
lection of pretty stones. "Ah, there it is," she said, draw-
ing out a strapped pack.

Sean was amazed. "How can all that fit in that little
purse?''

"It's magic, of course. Don't Mundane women have
purses?''

Sean remembered how much Mom could carry in hers.
"Yes. But if you have a complete change of clothing in
there, why didn't you use it when we came out of the pool,
instead of putting your wet things back on?''

"I knew you lacked a change of clothing, so I did not
wish to embarrass you."

"How do I love thee," he murmured. "Let me count
the ways."

"I tried to count, but there were too many ways," she
said. "Even though I know it's all just because of the love
spring." She opened the napsack and put the sprig of
thyme in. Then she rolled up the napsack and put it back
in her purse. "That should take care of it."

"I don't understand," he said. "Why does putting it in
there change anything?"

"Because anything in a napsack sleeps," she explained.
"In fact, I seldom put it on, because then it makes me take
a nap too. But it is useful for storing perishable food, as
it won't spoil while sleeping, and the thyme bomb has little
effect while napping."

Sean shook his head. "Knapsack—napsack. I keep for-
getting how things work in Xanth. But if our time is now
normal, how come I don't feel any different?"

"We didn't change,", she explained patiently. "The
time around us did. Now we are aligned with the time
outside. Thyme bombs normally speed time up tenfold, so
perhaps six minutes passed during our hour. If it requires
ten minutes for your family to find you—"

234   PIERS ANTHONY

"Got it. Let's make our remaining three or four minutes
count." He held her and kissed her.

"Hey, whatcha doing down there?" David called from

above.

"Trust my little half brother to arrive at the least op-
portune time," Sean muttered, turning her loose. But he
was glad to have been found. "I'm kissing my girlfriend,
punk!" he called up. "What's it look like?"

"Like making time with a strange woman," David
called. "But it's too dark down there to see any detail. Do
you have your clothes on?"

"Yes, we have our clothes on," Sean called. "Now, go
fetch some rope or something to haul us out of here."

"Okay." The head disappeared.

He turned back to her. "Quick, let's finish our kiss."

Willow laughed and obliged.

Then the other members of the family were there at the
cave entrance. "What happened?" Dad called.

"I fell in a hole with a girl," Sean called back.

"Gee," Karen called. "Is she pretty?"

"Yes."

Willow blushed.

Then Dad was letting down a knotted rope. "We've got
it anchored. Can you climb?''

"Can you climb?" Sean asked Willow.

"Yes. I have recovered from my fatigue, and this is
closer to my elm than we were before."

"Then you go up first. I'll wait till you're clear."

"Thank you." She kissed him again, quickly, and put
her hands on the rope. He put his hands on her petite waist
and helped her up. He let go when she climbed beyond
his reach. He looked up to be sure she was all right, but
realized that it was now possible to see under her skirt,
and hastily averted his gaze. In Xanth it just wasn't done,
and he would never embarrass her in any way he could
avoid. Even though he had seen the whole of her before,
and knew she didn't wear those forbidden panties. He

YON ILL WIND   235

would look at her only when she wished him to. Because
he loved her.

"Your turn," Dad called down.

Sean grasped the rope and hauled himself up. It was
hard work, and he realized that Willow had climbed faster
than he was. She had not been fooling about the way her
strength increased near her tree; she was probably stronger
than he was, now, despite her delicate physique.

He heaved himself up through the hole, panting, and
Dad caught him. The whole family was there, as well as
Chlorine and Nimby, the pets, and Sim. And Willow.

"What happened?" Dad asked.

"I love her," Sean said before he thought. "We washed
in a love spring, back near the goblin dam."

"A love spring!" Chlorine said. She was wearing what
looked like a Mundane windbreaker jacket. "But didn't
you know—"

"We thought it was a regular pool. Willow helped me
out of the rushing water. She maybe saved my life. But
we both got all muddy, so—"

"But you returned alone," Mom said.

"I went through a Forget Whorl. But she couldn't. And
when I saw her again—it all came back. It would have
come back anyway, before long. I still love her."

"We had better get back to the RV," Dad said. "I pre-
sume Willow will join us."

"Yes she will," Sean said, going to her. "We can't
separate again."

The others hesitated, but Chlorine clarified the matter.
"When two people meet at a love spring, they are in love.
Nothing else matters much. Not even species. It is useless
to object. They must marry."

"No," Willow said.

Chlorine glanced at her. "You were not in the love
spring?"

"I was in it. I love him. But I am a winged monster.
He is Mundane. We cannot marry."
"Monster!" David cried,, laughing.

236   PIERS ANTHONY

"That's what they call themselves, dolt," Karen said in
superior fashion. "All the winged creatures. It doesn't
mean they are ugly."

"Then why did you follow him here?" Chlorine asked
Willow.

"I could not help it. But if we go to the Good Magician,
we can get a potion to nullify the love."

"We can't go anywhere until Xanth is saved," Dad

said.

"After that, of course," Willow said.

"And he charges a year's Service, or the equivalent,"
Chlorine pointed out. "I'm on Service for him now. How
could Sean do that, when he has to return to Mundania
with his family?"

"I will serve his time too," Willow said.

"No you won't!" Sean protested. "You would never
have gotten into this trouble if you hadn't stopped to help

me."

"I'm not sorry. The memory will be worth it."

"The memory of the love you will no longer have?"
Chlorine asked.

"Yes. The love spring did it, but I know he is worthy
of it."

"Sean?" David asked incredulously.

"I'll serve my own time," Sean said.

"But then you would have to stay in Xanth," Chlorine
pointed out.

He glanced at her. She was still absolutely lovely and
sexy, but he no longer cared. "So?"

"So if you have to stay anyway, why not stay in love
with her?"

Sean was astonished. She was right. "Maybe take the
potion after the Service is done," he said, looking at Wil-
low.         '

But she demurred. "If we are not to marry, it would
only be torture," she said. "And I know you have business
in your own world. I am native; I will serve the time for
us both. This is the practical thing."

YON ILL WIND   237

She was right, too. Yet it wasn't fair.

They were now at the RV. "I think Willow will be with
us for a while," Mom said briskly. "The rest of you show
her the RV, while Jim and I discuss something outside."

Sean was not sure that was good news, but there was
nothing to do but go along with it. "Come, Willow—we'll
show you our magic moving house."

"I have seen it from afar," Willow said. "I do not mind
where I am, as long as I am with you."

Chlorine shook her head. "If this is what a love spring
offers, I'm going to find one when I'm ready to marry."

"You should," Sean agreed. "It's total." That was the
understatement of the day.

13
COMPLICATIONS

Mary got Jim safely out of earshot of those in the
RV. "That girl," she said.

"With wings," he agreed, as if he didn't
know her concern.

"They can't be together."

"Mary, they can't be apart, either. They're in love."

"You know what I mean. He's going to want to sleep
with her—and she'll let him."

He nodded. "This is the nature of young love."

"You're not taking this seriously!"

He looked at her. "On the contrary, I'm being realistic.
I have heard about those love springs. They will not be
denied. When animals get into them—"

"Jim, we're not animals!"

"In certain respects, we are. When it comes to—"

238   PIERS ANTHONY

"Don't be impossible. What are we going to do?"

"Mary, he's seventeen, and she's about the same. That's
old enough."

"It's not old enough!"

"How old were we when—"

"Thirty-one and twenty-nine."

"Our second marriages," he reminded her. "How old
were you the first time you had sex?"

"Don't be uncouth."

"Sorry. The first time you tried to signal the stork?"

"That has no relevance."

"Doesn't it? I was seventeen—Sean's age. How about

you?"

"Fifteen," she answered reluctantly. "But I didn't en-
joy it."

"It's allright only if you don't enjoy it?"

"That's not what I mean. That girl would love to—"
But she had to stop, because he had already shot down
that approach. "Anyway, it was different in our day."

"Yes, we were teens. Now we're mature fogies whose
sexual energies are diminished, so we can safely condemn
contemporary teens for having our past urges."

"I didn't say that." Then she made a counter sally.
"Did you bring the girl into your house and tell your par-
ents?"

He laughed. "Think I was suicidal? They were just like

us—as we are now."

That stung, but she plowed on. "Are we to give them
space in the RV to—to share a bed? With David and Karen

knowing?''

That concept finally set him back. "Point made. But let
me play devil's advocate a moment. There is no passion
quite so strong as unrequited or unconsummated love. Isn't
it possible that if we provide them with Mundane antistork
devices and let them indulge their passions, they would get
over that aspect and be able to make a more rational de-
cision when the time comes to separate?"

YON ILL WIND   239

"Did our indulgence cause us to reconsider marriage?"
she asked evenly.

He raised his hands in a surrender gesture. "No, I liked
you even better after than before." He pondered a moment.
"We have not had long to observe them, but it is my
impression that they have not yet indulged—"

"They were alone less than ten minutes."

"Plus their bath in the love spring. They resisted temp-
tation because they knew the relationship had no future. I
think that must have been mostly Willow's doing, because
Sean never showed all that much maturity in decisions
before. She strikes me as—well, as a woman who would
be worthy of him, in other circumstances, wings or not."

"No question," Mary agreed, surprisingly. "She's a
sensible and generous person. What little I have seen of
her so far, I like very well. But the fact is that they are
not for each other, being of different realms and different
species, and Xanth is stricter about babies out of wedlock
than the real world is. But as you say, young passions are
strong. How long could they hold out, if we put them
constantly together?''

"Fifteen minutes?"

"So what do we do?"

He sighed. ' 'We move Willow in with Karen or Chlo-
rine, and Sean with David. We keep company with them—
constantly. But I'm going to feel like a jailer."

"It is necessary." Then, satisfied with her victory, she
kissed him.

"I'll take that as a promise for the time we get alone,"
he said.

"To be sure."

They returned to the RV. It was crowded, because there
were now nine people in it, counting the demoness, plus
the pets. At least the big chick had returned to his govern-
ess; they and the dragons would remain on the mesa until
the winds abated. This had been the most remarkable me-
nagerie she had encountered, even in imagination. She was
privately amazed at herself for taking it all in stride. But

240   PIERS ANTHONY

what else was she to do? She was a long way from her
specialty of archaic Mundane languages.

Jim took the wheel, and she the front passenger seat.
The others were arranged all around the main section of
the vehicle. Sean and Willow were holding hands, while
David and Karen were eagerly questioning them about
everything, especially love springs. "If David and I fell in
a love spring, would we fall in love?" Karen asked.

"Yuckk!" David cried.

But Willow had an answer. "I think not, because you
are not party to the Adult Conspiracy. But you might quar-
rel less."

"Were you nekked together in that pool?" David asked.

"Yuck!" Karen said, for nuisance value..

"Yes, naked," Sean answered. "We washed each
other's backs. And that's all we did."

That last was for Mary's benefit, she knew. She appre-
ciated it.

"Except for kissing," Willow said.

Jim nudged the RV forward. He circled toward the de-
mon tunnel. The passengers opened the Windows and
waved to the roc and dragons, who napped a wing and
snorted smoke or fire into the air, respectively, in response.
It had indeed been a good joint effort, and successful. But

there was more to do.

Mentia floated out through the metal in the unnerving
way she had and stretched her arms impossibly wide to
indicate the outline of the tunnel entrance, which was oth-
erwise invisible. Jim steered for it, and the vehicle seemed
to sink into the solid-looking rock. Then the surface of the
ground closed overhead, and Jim turned on the headlights
to illuminate the curving tunnel. The demoness, caught by
surprise again (really?), was shown in phenomenally full-
breasted nudity, sans panties, of course, but recovered after
too long a moment and formed a tight dress around her

voluptuous torso.

"A man could get to like Xanth," Jim murmured in a
tone just loud enough for her to hear.

YON ILL WIND   241

"Oh?" Mary said in a tone just loud enough for the
demoness to overhear. "Suppose she became a raving
monster?"

Mentia obligingly became a raving monster, with spikes
at every joint and enormous dripping fangs.

"I've been set up," Jim muttered, as Mary and Mentia
laughed.

The drive down was slow but uneventful; the phantasms
did not reappear. When they emerged from the base it was
evening. "Do we have time to camp for the night?" Jim
called to Chlorine in back.

She checked with Nimby. "Yes, if we don't mind the
- madness."

"We'll stay in the RV," he said. "But we'll forage
outside for food, et cetera."

"Cetera?" Willow asked.

"He means natural functions," Sean said.

"Isn't everything natural?"

"Poop," David said, then paused in surprise. "Hey, I
got the bad word out! No bleep."

"The madness is overriding the Adult Conspiracy,"
Mentia explained.

"But don't let it go to your head," Mary called se-
verely.

"Well, I wouldn't want it to go there," the boy retorted.

"What a mess," Karen agreed. "But are you sure your
face isn't made of it?"

"What's on my face?"

"Nothing. That's the way you look all the time."

Things were getting back to normal. Mary was pleased
to note in the rearview mirror that Willow was blushing.
Definitely a refined creature. If only Sean could meet
someone like her in Miami!

Nimby directed them to a reasonable place, and Jim
parked the RV. "Pee break!" David cried, reveling in the
newfound freedom from bleeping.

They got out and spread out, accomplishing their vari-
ous purposes, and Mentia found a good pie tree. Mary

242   PIERS ANTHONY

would have preferred something more nutritious, but had
pretty much given up on that particular fight in this realm.
Pies were simply too abundant and convenient and popu-
lar.                            ,

Then they set up the RV for the night, and neither Sean
nor Willow made any objection to Mary's bedding assign-
ments. They did indeed comprehend the risks of doing
otherwise. They settled down for sleep.

Which wasn't ideal. Because of the presence of Chlo-
rine, Nimby, and Willow, their beds were all full, so that
she and Jim had to sleep in the front seats. Jim simply
slumped down with his pillow against the door and zonked
out, but it took her longer to settle down. And naturally
she heard something.

Someone was stirring in the RV. The sound was slight,
suggesting that whoever it was didn't want to disturb any-
one else. Was it a toilet call? The children had been cau-
tioned not to go out alone, because Xanth really was
dangerous, especially at night. The spell on the RV pro-
vided considerable security, but that was no good outside.

Mary was about to inquire, but decided to keep quiet.
It wasn't that she was a snoop, but she did want to know
exactly what was going on. There was too much about this
magic land that was disturbing in the best of times, and
the dust of madness made it worse, and night made it
worse yet, and the addition of that winged girl, however
nice a person she undoubtedly was, made it even more so.
She loved Sean, without doubt; the human signs were all
over her. But that was its own complication. Was she get-
ting up, to go out for a solitary flying session, or to be
alone with Sean? There was little doubt what the two
would do, if they got alone together. So maybe Mary
should follow them out, just making her presence known,
and scotch that at the start.

The side door opened, amazingly quietly, and closed.
Someone had exited the RV. Who? She thought by the
sounds that it was just one; there had been no whispered

YON ILL WIND   243

dialogue. That argued against Sean and Willow. Then who
was it? And why?

There was a light tap at her window. She jumped, caught
by surprise. The person, far from hiding, was signaling
her!

She looked. It was Nimby. Oh. He followed his own
rules, and certainly wasn't bound by theirs. But what then
of Chlorine? If Nimby and Chlorine wanted to indulge
themselves together, it certainly wasn't Mary's place to
oppose it, as long as it wasn't in sight of the children. But
Chlorine hadn't left her bed; Mary could recognize her
particular pattern of breathing.

Nimby beckoned. What could he want? Well, she would
find out. He was a strange one, and she knew he was really
a dragon, but she had no fear of him. Had he wished to
do them any ill, he had had countless opportunities. Cer-
tainly he wouldn't find her a romantic object—not with
Chlorine there. So it was something else.

She opened the door carefully and got out, closing it as
carefully behind her. Then she turned to face Nimby.
"Yes?" she inquired in a low whisper.

For answer, he became the donkey-headed diagonally
striped dragon. This time she noticed two things she hadn't
noticed before; either she had been unobservant, or he had
changed. She suspected the latter. One change was that his
scales were glowing, outlining him in the darkness so that
she had no trouble seeing him. The other was that the
scales in his center portion were formed into the shape of
a saddle.

"You want me to ride you?" she asked.

The equine head nodded.

He surely had a reason. He seemed to know everything
that went on in the vicinity. So he must know something
now. .

The head nodded again.

"Why, you can read my thoughts!" she exclaimed.

Another nod.

So he had known she was awake and listening, and had

244   PIERS ANTHONY

come for her. But why? Was there some danger?

One more nod.
And they could alleviate it? By taking action now?

Nod.
Then they had better get busy. She approached him and

climbed into the saddle. It was surprisingly comfortable.
There were projecting scales in front that served as perfect
handholds, surely by no coincidence. Even some below for
her feet to rest on. Nimby was the perfect mount.

The pastel pink stripes turned red. "Why, Nimby,
you're blushing!" she murmured. "Because I compli-
mented your status as a mount."

Embarrassed nod.
Then Nimby moved. Mary had had her youthful fling

with horses, so had a fair amount of experience riding.
Nothing fancy, but she was competent. Nimby's gait was
odd—then less odd—arid finally exactly like that of a good
horse. He was accommodating her memory of riding. He
was certainly easy to get along with.

They got up speed. Mary strained to see where they
were going in the darkness—and then Nimby's eyes
glowed brightly, sending out beams of light as if they were
headlights, showing her everything ahead. "Thank you,"
she murmured, patting a scale. No wonder Chlorine kept
company with this versatile creature. And he had made
Chlorine look the way she did. He was really a remarkable
entity. Just how powerful was his magic?

For a moment the dragon seemed nervous about some-
thing. Mary looked around, but saw nothing dangerous,
and knew that Nimby wouldn't let anything bad approach.
She returned to her chain of thought. No, potent magic
wasn't necessary to explain Nimby. He was making the
most of his shape-changing and mind-reading abilities, so
seemed much more talented than he perhaps was. Possibly
he drew on the mental powers of the person he was with,
thus enhancing his abilities. That would explain a good
deal. He was probably a very specially talented animal,

YON ILL WIND   245

who became more than that when associated with a human
being.

Nimby seemed to relax. And now he reached his des-
tination. There was a big old dead tree with a splintered
trunk. The wood looked firm and dry, not rotten despite
its evident age. In fact, it looked a bit like those two pieces
of reverse wood that Chlorine had reported using to nullify
that nuisance machine that had captured Woofer and
Tweeter.

Nimby nodded.

"Reverse wood?" she asked, startled. "You brought me
here to fetch reverse wood?"

Nod.

Mentia appeared. ' 'What are you two up to, in the dead
of night?" she asked. Then she spied the tree. "Oops—I
can't touch that!" She vanished.

"And as a Mundane, I can handle it without suffering
reversal of my magic," Mary said. "While you might be
in trouble. Very well; how much do you need?"

It turned out that he needed a bundle. She pulled frag-
ments from the tree and bound them together with a vine,
then held the bundle in her arms as Nimby carried her back
toward the RV. Then she laid pieces of wood in a large
circle around the RV, spaced only a few feet apart. That
should be one insidiously effective defense perimeter, she
thought.

Nimby nodded.

Mentia reappeared. "Deadly," she remarked.

They finished the job and returned to the RV. Before
she climbed back in, Mary kissed one donkey ear. "It's
nice to have you looking out for us," she said. "Even if
it is just to help Chlorine complete her assignment." The
ear blushed.

Mary settled back in her seat, and Nimby resumed his
human form and rejoined Chlorine in back. No one had
missed them. This time Mary went right to sleep.

246   PIERS ANTHONY

At dawn the others didn't even notice the circle of wood,
but Mary saw that enormous tracks came directly toward
the RV, touched the circle, and became hopelessly con-
fused. Probably a hungry land dragon had sniffed them
out, but been balked by the reversal of its nature or magic.
Nimby must have seen it coming, and quietly taken the
measure required to abate the menace. To protect Chlo-
rine—and her mission. It was really Nimby the Good Ma-
gician had sent them, in" the guise of sending Chlorine.

Mary gathered up the wood and tied it back into its
bundle. Now it neutralized itself, as it did when in its orig-
inal tree trunk, but its potential remained. She stacked it

in the RV for future use. .

Now Chlorine consulted with Nimby to see what route
they should take where, to get the windbreaker where it
would be most effective. To their surprise, he did not rec-
ommend the trollway. Instead it turned out that they would
have to seek the help of a number of individuals scattered
across the area. The first was Modem.

"That looks a lot like a Mundane term," Jim remarked.

"Surely coincidence."

They found a gas guzzler and refueled, then set off on
a tortuous trip through the forest until they came to an
isolated shack. The windows were boarded over, but not
because it was deserted; the family was battening down
for the terrible storm that was building. The RV stopped

beside it.

Chlorine was about to get out, but Nimby restrained her
and indicated Mary. Oh? Well, there had to be a reason.
Mary had a good deal of respect for Nimby's awareness
of things. She got out and knocked on the shack's door.

"Go away, spook!" a voice called from inside.

"I'm not a spook," Mary protested, though she had a
notion what kind of apparitions had been bothering this
house. "I'm a dull Mundane woman looking for Modem."

The door opened a crack, held closely by a glittery hand.
A gnarly eye peered out. "And I'm the hag of this hut.
What do you know of Modem?"

YON ILL WIND   247

"Only that we need him to help save Xanth from the
ill wind."

The door cracked wider. "Let me get a look at you,"
the hag said. "Why, you're someone's mother."

"Yes."

"Then it must be all right. See that he doesn't get into
mischief. He's got weird magic." She called back into the
hut. "Modem lad, go with this mother."

"Yes, Haggi Ma." A boy about David's age appeared,
tousled of hair and ragged of garb.

Now it was clear why Mary had had to be the one.
Nimby had known. "Thank you," she said to Haggi. She
took the boy by his grubby hand and led him to the RV.
"We'll try to bring him back safely," she called. Then to
the boy: "We have a magic moving house. You may look
out the window, after you wash your hands. You will sit
with my son David. You may call me Mom for now."

"Yes, Mom," he replied dutifully.

Chlorine came out to meet them. "This is Modem,"
Mary told her in a motherly manner. "Clean him up and
find out the nature of his magic. Give him the window seat
beside David." She really meant for Chlorine to find out
from Nimby. Also, the boy would more likely hold still if
Chlorine washed his face and hands. Chlorine riad a certain
effect on males of any age; might as well make positive
use of it.

"Hello, Modem," Chlorine said. "I am Chlorine." She
smiled.

"Chee." The boy looked stunned. That meant he was
socially normal.

They resumed driving, looking for the next name on
Nimby's list. This was Keaira, off in another direction.
While Jim navigated the twisty turns of the almost track-
less jungle, Chlorine washed the stunned Modem's face
and hands and dulcetly questioned him.

It turned out that Modem's magic was indeed related to
the Mundane term. It was what he called a magic mirror,

248   PIERS ANTHONY
only it was inside him. He could communicate with Corn

Pewter.

"With who?" Willow asked.

"Corn Pewter," Chlorine explained. "The evil machine
turned good. The one who first sent Sending. He changes

reality in his vicinity."

"Yes," Modem agreed. "When I connect with him, I

can do it too, but only because I'm a wo—wor—"

"Work station," Jim called back.

"Yes. That's what he calls it."

"That's nice," Chlorine said. "Can you show us?"

At that point the RV reached a dead-end trail. A huge
tangly tree with dangling tentacular vines barred their way.

"Watch it," Mentia said. "That's a tangle tree."

Karen giggled. "Like my hair?"

"Not exactly. Watch." The demoness floated out and
assumed the form of a little girl. She walked up to the tree.

Suddenly the vines writhed. They wrapped around her
and hauled her into the tree. A big wooden mouth opened
in the trunk. The tentacles stuffed the girl into that orifice.

Wooden teeth clamped down.

Then the mouth opened and spat out, the girl. The trunk

turned green. The tentacles wilted.

Mentia resumed luscious woman form and floated back

into the RV. "Any questions?"

"Yuck, no," Karen said, looking a bit green herself.
"Yeah," David said. "What made it spit you back

out?"

The demoness smiled in a female dog way. "I gave it

a whiff of stink horn."
"Of what?"
Mentia made a foul-smelling noise. The most ghastly

imaginable stench filled the vehicle. "Like that," she said.

"Only stronger."

"Ghaa!" Karen cried, rushing to open a window. Mary

quietly did the same. That was nose-numbingly dreadful.
Only Nimby wasn't choking.

YON ILL WIND   249

"Great!" David cried. "And that's what that dumb

tangle tree bit into?"

"I'm afraid so," the demoness said with mock regret.
Then they were all laughing, even Modem, despite the

awful odor.

"I can change it," Modem said. "When I connect."

"Then please connect with Corn Pewter," Chlorine told
him. "And change it to roses."'

Modem closed his eyes, concentrating. Suddenly a beau-
tiful rose scent permeated the RV. Reality had changed.

"Do you know, I begin to see why this talent may be
useful," Jim remarked. "Can he get us past that tangle
tree?"

Chlorine spoke to the boy. The tangle tree became a pie
tree. Mentia went out and harvested the best pies and
brought them in for consumption as they drove on. Chlo-
rine returned to her seat beside Nimby, and brought out a
greenish bug. She passed this across her mouth.

"What's that?" Karen asked.

"A lips tic, of course. It colors my lips." Indeed, they
were now a much firmer green.

What else? Mary thought.

They entered a wmdswept plain. The power of the storm
continued to rise, and the flying dust made visibility short.
Blasts of it struck the RV, pushing it around, and scattered
phantasms flew by. Sword blades seemed to rise out of the
ground, threatening the tires, but Nimby indicated and
Mentia verified that they were mostly illusory. Still, Mary
would not care to plow through much more of this.

Keaira's residence was an oasis amidst the barrens.
Pretty flowering softwoods surrounded a larger dust-
colored tree with a fancy tree house. "Oh, a cottage in
dust tree," Chlorine said, pleased.

"Since when do pine trees flower?" Jim muttered.

"Since we came to Xanth," Mary replied.

They pulled up near the dust tree. Despite its name,
there was no dust flying here; the air was calm and sweet.

250 PIERS ANTHONY

-which was surely

This seemed to be an enchanted spot-
why Keaira had chosen to live here.

The door of the tree house opened, and a young woman
with brown braids emerged. "A traveling house?" she

asked, surprised.
Mary approached her. "Yes, and we would like you to

join us, if you are Keaira. We are on a mission to save
Xanth from the terrible storm, and we need your help."

"But my power over weather is very small," Keaira
protested. "I can affect it only quite near me. I couldn't
do anything about a giant magical storm like this."

"Your talent is weather control!" Mary exclaimed,
catching on. "That's why your house suffers no bad

weather!"

"Yes, of course," Keaira agreed. "But only as far out

as you see. That's not very much."

"It should be enough to enable us to get through the
increasingly bad weather we face," Mary said. "Will you

come with us?"

"Of course, if it will help Xanth. Will it take long?"

"We hope not. But it could be several days. We have
to travel behind the storm and herd it north."

Keaira looked wistfully at her house. "But if I am away
too long, the ill wind will blow my house and trees away,
and it has taken so long to cultivate them."

Mary appreciated her reluctance. But she had a notion.
"Maybe we can do something about that." She turned to
Modem. "Can you change her reality so that her oasis

won't suffer?"

The boy considered. "Would a dome over it help?"
"Not if it got suffocatingly hot under it," Mary said.
"Maybe a thyme plant, to keep it unchanging," Sean

suggested.

"But we don't have a thyme plant," Chlorine protested.

"Yes we do," Sean said. "Willow has a sprig of thyme

in her napsack."

"What knapsack?" Mary asked, for the girl had no

more than her little purse with her.

YON ILL WIND   251

"It wouldn't help," Willow said. "It would speed
things up, when they need to be slowed down."

"How about with reverse wood?" Sean asked. "Mom's
got some stashed with the luggage."

"Yes, that should do it," Willow agreed, surprised.

So Sean got out two pieces of reverse wood, and Willow
pulled a knapsack out of her purse, and a sprig of thyme
from that. They set the thyme in Keaira's tree house.

"But nothing has changed," Mary said.

Sean smiled. "Yes it has. Mom. Look beyond the oa-
sis."

She looked. The dust was still flying out there, but very
slowly, as if embedded in syrup. "I don't understand."

"We're living ten times as fast as usual," he ex-
plained. "Outside is normal. The thyme has speeded us
up. But the moment we put the reverse wood with it, it
will have the opposite effect, and the oasis will be a
tenth as fast as the outside."

Now it was coming clear. Except for one detail. "How
will you get out of there, once the reverse wood reverses
the thyme?"

"I won't. I'll simply throw in the two sticks, and when
they land, they'll separate and take effect. That's how
Chlorine nulled Sending, way back when. She told me.'*

Mary looked at Nimby. He nodded. It seemed that it
would work as specified. "Then it seems you can safely
come with us, if your oasis will last for a day or so of its
time."

"Yes, that should be all right," the young woman
agreed.

They cleared the oasis, and Sean hurled the two sticks
of wood in. They landed beside the dust tree and bounced
apart. And the scene seemed to freeze. The magic had
taken effect.

The RV was yet more crowded, but that couldn't be
helped. Or could it? Mary had a notion. "Modem, do you
know what an accommodation spell is?"

"A corn a days in?" he repeated blankly.

252   PIERS ANTHONY

"The imps use it to make their tiny house seem big
enough for full-sized folk. It isn't really, but—well, maybe
it is. I was wondering whether you could make this moving
house seem larger inside, without being larger outside."
"Mom, you're a genius!" Sean exclaimed.
"Yes, I guess," the boy agreed doubtfully, "if Pewter

knows it." He concentrated.

Suddenly the RV was twice its former size. There was
room for everyone. Mary was seated on a seat big enough
for two. The roof was twice as high. Jim was manhandling
a monstrous steering wheel. But when she looked out the
window, she saw that the RV was taking up no more road
space than before. It was big only inside.

"Isn't magic wonderful," she breathed.

"For sure," Jim said, shifting to get to the edge of his
seat so that his feet could reach the pedals.

But outside the weather still buffeted the vehicle. The
gusts of wind were becoming frighteningly powerful, and
visibility was diminishing alarmingly. Something had to
be done, or they would be blown into disaster.

Mary had an idea. "Keaira—can you give us calm
weather, in the vicinity of our moving house?''

"Certainly," the girl said. And suddenly they were in
an aisle of calm. Beyond it the ferocity of the storm was
undiminished, but no gust touched the RV, and the air
surrounding it was clear.

"Thank you," Mary said, much relieved. Then she set
about finding some blocks of wood or something else to
enable her husband to reach the pedals more comfortably.
She didn't want him to lose control of the vehicle.

The next name on Nimby's list was Chena Centaur. "I
recognize that one," Mary said, sifting through her mem-
ory. "Carleton Centaur's little sister. He asked us to relay
his greeting to her, if we saw her."
"You're right," Jim agreed, surprised.
"But I'm not sure how a centaur will fit in here, even

with our increased interior space."

Nimby wrote a note. " 'Chena won't come inside,' "

YON ILL WIND   253

Chlorine read. " 'She's a winged centaur.' "

"Winged?" Mary asked. "I'm sure Carleton didn't say
anything like that. She must be a regular centaur."

But Nimby, as always, turned out to be right. They came
up to two somewhat bedraggled winged centaurs taking
shelter in the lee of a large chest nut and bolt tree. Chests
of nuts and bolts were scattered everywhere, harvested pre-
maturely by the wind.

Mentia went out to talk with the fillies, who were some-
what taken aback by the RV. Then the two stepped into
the calm surrounding the vehicle, evidently relieved, shak-
ing out their wings. The folk inside stepped out to make
introductions. The two were indeed Chena and her friend
Crystal.

"But how is it that you are winged?" Mary asked.
"Your brother Carleton sends his greetings and goodwill,
but he said nothing about wings."

"I wasn't winged then," Chena explained. "I was a
normal centaur. But then I met Che Centaur, and, well, I
had a wishing stone, and it made me winged. Crystal was
a human girl, whom I talked into converting. You see, we
need more flying centaurs, of different derivations, if we
are to have a viable species. So now I'm out recruiting.
Crystal here agreed that her prospects would be better as
a centaur. I have been showing her the centaur ways as
we look for more recruits."

"But won't you need male flying centaurs too?" Mary
asked.

Crystal flushed. "Yes," Chena said. "We are looking
for suitable males of any species to recruit."

Mary studied them. Both were healthy fillies in the
equine portions, and slender girls in the human portions,
with the rather full breasts that the centaur species tended
to have. ' T suspect you will succeed. But I can provide an
expert opinion, if you wish."

"You can?" Crystal asked, speaking for the first time.

Mary glanced to the side. "Sean, if you were not oth-
erwise attached, would you consider becoming a winged

254   PIERS ANTHONY

centaur in order to be with one of these fillies?''

"You bet!" Sean agreed. Then he had another notion,
and Mary could have bit her tongue for not anticipating it.
"Say, I could be transformed to a winged elf to be with

Willow!"

But Willow herself countered that, to Mary's great re-
lief. ' 'No, my love. Magician Trent can transform anyone
to any form, but you are Mundane. He could give you the
form of a winged elf male, but not the magic. Only if you
already had magic could it change with your form. You
would not be able to fly. Your wings would be useless.
And..." She paused delicately. "I love you as you are.

I would not have you change."

"We just can't make it in each other's worlds," he said,

disheartened.

"Not very well," she agreed.
"That's sad," Chena said. "You fell in a love spring?"

They nodded together.

Chena exchanged a glance with Crystal, then looked
back to Sean. "I don't mean to be crude, but if we find
males to recruit—do you mind telling us exactly where

that love spring is?"

Sean and Willow laughed together, ruefully. "I will
show you, when this crisis is over. But I hope you will
tell your stallions of its nature, before—''

"Oh, of course!" Chena said. "We wouldn't cheat!

That leads to mischief."

"We know," Sean agreed, and Willow nodded.
Mary did not comment, but it struck her that for a ran-
dom coupling of dissimilar species, the two were remark-
ably well matched. Sean had a wild side that needed
taming, while Willow was quite realistic and sensible, yet
they laughed at the same things. Sean could do a good
deal worse in Mundania. In fact, some of the girls he had
been interested in had had only one thing going for them,
youth. That asset was all too fleeting, as Mary knew so

well from her own experience.

But all that was beside the point. She had to explain

YON ILL WIND   255

things to the centaur fillies. "We were looking for you,
Chena," she said. "And perhaps for Crystal too. Because
we need help to deal with this storm, before it blows Xanth
away. Will you come with us?"

"What kind of help?" Chena asked. "We can't safely
fly in this fierce wind."

"I'm not sure," Mary confessed. "But I am sure that
we need you, and that the manner of it will become ap-
parent in due course. As for flying—you should be able
to do that in the ambiance of our traveling house, because
Keaira is keeping the weather calm here." She glanced at
Keaira, who nodded shyly.

"Why, certainly, then," Chena agreed. "We can fly
above it, or to the side. As long as the terrible wind is kept
away. It isn't just the force of it, but the magic dust it
carries. It makes us dizzy, and weird things attack."

"Like phantasms," Mary agreed. "Even when they are
illusions, they are mischief enough. Very well, then, let's
get moving again."

But Nimby was writing a note. Chlorine took it and read
it aloud. "Why—why he says the house can fly! The fillies
can make it fly."

Chena looked at the RV. "Well, we can make it light
enough to float, but that's not the same as-—"

"But then we could haul it along by ropes," Crystal
said. ' 'It could move through the air. It might be clumsy,
but it could be done, in calm weather."

"Is this safe?" Mary asked, surprised.

Nimby nodded.

"And we can travel over the jungle, instead of through
it?" The notion had definite appeal.

Nod.

This was evidently the way to go. "How do you make
it light?" she asked the centaurs.

"We simply flick things with our tails," Chena said.
"That's really our magic. To make things light enough to
float or fly. When we flick bothersome flies, they become
too light to sit, so must fly away. When we flick ourselves,

256   PIERS ANTHONY

we become similarly light." She looked at the RV. "How-
ever, that's pretty big. It would take a number of flicks to
lighten it enough, and we'd have to flick each of you who

go inside it, too."

"And the effect fades with time," Crystal said. "With

each passing moment, you lose lightness."

"You lose moments of effect," Jim said. He was speak-
ing technically, because this was in his specialty of phys-
ics, but it didn't matter here.

"Yes. So you have to get flicked again. I think you
would have to settle to the ground every half hour or so

to get renewed."

"I wonder," Mary said thoughtfully. "Modem, could

you change that reality to make it last longer? Like maybe
a day instead of half an hour."

"I guess so," Modem said.

"Then let's try it," Mary said.

First the two centaurs worked on the RV. They were
right: they were making it lighten, but only at the rate of
a hundred pounds or so per flick. Mary could see the tires
getting less flattened. But it would take about twenty flicks
apiece to complete that job, and they had to pause briefly

to recharge between doses.

"Say, can you split into your halves?" David asked as
they worked. Mary didn't like the way he was staring at
their breasts, but the centaurs seemed oblivious. Obviously
they wouldn't go bare if they felt there was any shame in

it.

"Halves?" Crystal asked.

"You know. Horse and person."

"No," Chena said between tail flicks. Those breasts
quivered with the effort of every flick, and so did David's
eyeballs. But Mary was determined to give no sign of her
distress. The centaurs simply didn't know how things were
in Mundania. "We are complete creatures, crossbreeds
who have become our own species."

"Anyway, it wouldn't be halves, it would be thirds,"
Crystal said. "Equine, human, and avian."

YON ILL WIND   257

"Well, can you maybe turn all human, or all bird?" the
boy persisted. "Back and forth."

"No, that's not our magic. You are thinking of the mer-
folk, some of whom can make legs and become fully hu-
man and walk on land, or perhaps make a fish's head and
swim underwater. Or the naga folk, who can assume hu-
man or serpent form, with their natural form being be-
tween. Others, like the harpies, are fixed in their merged
forms."

"Well, could they maybe get together and teach each
other?" David persisted. "So the centaurs could change
form, and the naga could have magic talents, like flying?''

Chena laughed heartily, and Mary struggled not to
wince. "Maybe so. But Crystal and I have been working
so hard to master our present forms that we are not much
interested in experimenting with any other type of magic.
We are satisfied with the magic we have, which enables
us to fly, and don't crave any other type."

Then one end of the RV lifted off the ground. It was
just about light enough to float away. It was time to do
the people.

"One person should be ready to hold each one as we
lighten them," Chena said. "We wouldn't want anyone to
float away." She smiled, but the warning was serious.
Jim took a stance by the RV. "I'll go last," he said.
They started in on the people. Karen went first, and of
course, the moment she was flicked and lightened by
Chena's tail, she leaped into the air to see how far she
would go. As it happened, she leaped away from Jim, who
reached for her but missed. But Mary had been alert for
something like this, and snagged the flying girl. She was
prepared, yet even so, was surprised; Karen really was
featherlight, as if she were no more than an inflated balloon
in girl form. Obviously centaur magic did work on Mun-
danes.

She passed the giri to Jim, who popped her into the open
side door of the RV. "Hey, it's small again!" she cried.
"How are we all going to fit?"

258   PIERS ANTHONY

Mary looked at Modem. "That magic was temporary?"
The boy fidgeted. "No. But I can change only one re-
ality at a time. You said to make the lightness last."
Oops. They needed two aspects of magic now. This was

getting complicated. But maybe there .was an answer.

"Jim?"
Her husband rose to the occasion. "Modem, reality is

mostly the way we see it. Agreed?"
"Yes," the boy said. "Only—"
"So what we need is a special kind of reality for this
moving house. Suppose we think of it as having several
properties: it moves, it is larger inside than outside, and it
holds a given spell for a day or more. These are not dif-
ferent realities, but aspects of this particular structure. One
reality covers all its qualities. Does this make sense?"

"I guess," Modem agreed. He concentrated. And sud-
denly the interior was twice its natural size.

Crystal nicked David, and Jim passed him inside. Then
Chena did the next, and so on, until only Nimby and Jim
were left outside. Mary suspected that Nimby didn't really
need the centaur magic to make him light, but he .accepted
the flick and went in. Finally Jim closed the side door,
opened the driver's seat door, and accepted his own light-
ening. All ten of them were inside, with the two winged
centaurs outside, taking the ropes now attached.

The centaurs flicked the vehicle twice more, and the rear
end lifted. They were floating!
"Where to?" Jim asked Nimby.
Nimby pointed south. But he wrote another note.
"South," Jim called out the window.
"One more to pick up," Chlorine read. "Adam. About

an hour, as the house flies."

"An hour," Jim called out the window as the ropes lost

their slack. Just as if this were routine. Chena looked back

and nodded.

They were hauled smoothly up until the trees were be-
low. Mary saw their branches being furiously whipped by
the wind as the calm-weather patch left them behind. The

YON ILL WIND   259

storm was still intensifying, and it was not hard to appre-
ciate how in time it could start blowing trees down. Happy
Bottom was increasing to hurricane strength.

Now they bore south. The children peered out and
down, fascinated, and so did Jim and Mary. It was as if
they were in the cab of a blimp, floating silently across the
terrain. The landscape spread out below, varied and vari-
egated. The outline of Xanth, Mary knew, resembled that
of Mundane Florida, but within that outline the detail could
differ considerably. Here there were mountains and chasms
and endless types of magic. She looked at the two flying
centaurs, who made a pretty pair as their great wings rose
and fell together. They were nice girls, she knew. In fact,
most of the folk of Xanth were nice. Parents were trusting,
because the average stranger deserved trust. The bad crea-
tures, like dragons, were obvious—and even they weren't
always bad. The winged monsters had pitched in to help
save Xanth, even the filthy harpies, and none had broken
the truce.

There were things she was coming to like about this
land. She would be sorry to leave it. And she did want to
save it. She felt somewhat responsible for the storm, be-
cause it had entered Xanth through the same aperture as
their family had. She realized that that wasn't completely
reasonable, but neither was it completely unreasonable.
The storm was Mundane in origin; let the Mundanes de-
fuse it.

The flight continued with no sign of weight gain. Jim's
rationale for double reality shifting had worked. For some-
one who, until this adventure, had had zero tolerance for
fantasy, he had made a remarkable accommodation. As
had she herself. There was just something about Xanth,
magic aside.

Nimby pointed down. Already? How the hour had
flown—no pun. Now they had to fetch in Adam. What
would his magic talent be? How would it integrate with
those of the others? Only Nimby knew. Nimby, she real-

260   PIERS ANTHONY

ized, was the true leader of this expedition. A mute don-
key-headed dragon!

"Below!" Jim called out the window.

The centaurs angled down. There was a squat stone
house. At least that would be secure against the wind, for
a while. They landed before it, but the RV tended to float
up again when the rope went slack. The centaurs picked
up rocks and brought them to the RV as ballast. Jim and
Sean took the stones and piled them in the center of the
floor in back. Then the vehicle stayed put.

"But watch it," Jim warned. "We still float."

Then the centaurs brought smaller stones, which Mary
and Willow put in their purses as personal ballast, follow-
ing Nimby's indication. It seemed that they were the
proper ones to make the appeal to Adam.

They disembarked and approached the house. A face
appeared in a window. "Are you real or spooks?" it de-
manded.

"We are real," Mary answered. "I am somebody's

mother."

"I am somebody's love," Willow added.
"Then come in before the wind starts again." The door

opened.

They entered. A rather stout young man stood there.
"You must be Adam," Mary said. "I am Mary Mun-
dane."

"I am Willow Elf."

"Yes, I am Adam. What do you folk want with me?"

"We are on a mission to save Xanth from the terrible
storm," Mary said. "We need your help. Will you come
with us?"

He looked astonished. "You want me to go with you?"

"Yes, if you will. We need you."

"But nobody needs me," he protested. "Nobody even

likes me."

"Perhaps because nobody knows you," Willow said
sympathetically. "Are you mean-spirited?"

"No. I am whatever I choose to partake of."

YON ILL WIND    261
"Is that your magic?" Mary asked.
"Yes. If I see a rock, I can take its essence and become
rock-hard. If I see water, I can become liquid. If I see a
cloud, I can become light and fluffy. But that doesn't help
anyone else, and I still look plain and stuffy."

Willow shrugged. "So do I, among my own kind. But
I met a young man who thinks I'm beautiful, thanks to a
love spring. Maybe there will be something for you."

"A love spring," he breathed. "What I wouldn't give
to get dunked in one of those with a lovely girl!"

"Maybe it will happen," Mary said, realizing that this
was why Willow had been the one for this. Her experience
signaled what Adam's might be. "Please come with us, in
our floating house, and help us save Xanth."
"Sure," he said.

. So they brought him out, and it turned out that there
was no need to make him light, because he simply looked
at a cloud and became foggy light. He entered the RV and
took a seat where one was available, beside Keaira.

' 'Any more people to pick up?'' Mary asked Nimby.

Nimby shook his head.

"So our complement is complete at last!" Mary said,
relieved. "Now we can head straight on south and save
Xanth from Happy Bottom."

Nimby nodded.

"All the way south," Jim called out the window. "Are
you fillies holding up okay?"

"We are getting hungry," Chena said.
"Do you like pies? We have a treeful."
"Yes, those will be fine."

So they passed out the pies remaining from the changed
tangle tree, and the centaurs ate them as they flew. The
speed picked up. They were on their way to their destiny.

YON ILL WIND   263

14
ILL WIND

David woke as the RV slid down toward the ground.
Was this boring flight finally over? It had been
interesting for a while when they picked up Wil-
low, who was sort of pretty, and Modem was his own age,
twelve, so had some common interests. Modem had en-
joyed the big stink the demoness made as much as David
had, even if he had had to change it to roses to pacify the
womenfolk. He sneaked just as many peeks at Chlorine
and the topless flying centaur fillies. Oh, to be a few years
older! But Keaira was an adult young woman, well'cov-
ered, and no raving beauty either, while Adam was not
only adult, he was fat. So once the novelty of flying in the
RV faded, nothing much was left.

But now they were landing, and there might be some
action. After all, they still had to drive Happy Bottom to
where she couldn't do any more harm, and she wasn't
going to want to go. He pitied the poor person who would
have to wear the windbreaker jacket and try to herd her

north.
Nimby, sitting beside Chlorine, turned his head to look

at David. Oh, no! Did that mean David was the one?

Nimby nodded.
Nimby was eerie, but always right. So David would

have to do it. But he wouldn't like it.

Nimby shook his head.

He would like it? Why? But Nimby merely smiled in-
scrutably. He could be sort of frustrating that way. Yet it
did give David something to be interested in. How could

he like wearing the stupid jacket and trying to herd the
stupid wind anywhere? There must be something fun about
it.

The RV touched down right beside the big pillow where
Chlorine and Nimby had landed, at the beginning of the
trollway. They had come full circle, or whatever, and seen
a whole lot on the way. But what now?

Nimby had written some notes for Chlorine. Now she
read them off. " 'Keaira and David will have to herd
Happy Bottom north,' " she read. " 'He'll wear the wind-
breaker, and she'll keep the weather calm so they won't
get blown out of the sky.' "

"Out of the sky?" Mom asked, her tone echoing the
furrow David knew was in her forehead.

" "They will be riding the winged centaurs,' " Chlorine
read. " 'And Willow will show the way, flying with
them.' "

Suddenly it dawned. He'd ride a bare-busted filly! Up
in the sky by himself, like a flying cowboy, and he could
sneak all the peeks he wanted. That would indeed be fun.

"But David can't go all alone out there!" Mom pro-
tested, as, of course, she would. "Suppose he fell?"

Um; good point. In the RV there was no chance of fall-
ing, because it was closed in. But though he liked the idea
of riding a bare-chested winged filly, his actual horse-
riding experience was small. He might indeed fall, and if
they were high in the sky at the time, that would be the
end of him.

" 'No, he will remain light,' " Chlorine read. It seemed
that Nimby had anticipated all the questions. " 'Should he
fall from his steed, he would merely float gently down.
The centaur would have ample time to catch him before
he reached the ground.' "

Oho! And how would she catch him? By flinging her
arms about him and clasping him to her bosom? That was
a risk he was prepared to take. And Nimby was right about
the floating; he had forgotten how light they all were. So
it was safe after all.

264   PIERS ANTHONY

Dad had a more sensible objection: "If Keaira goes with
them, what of the weather here? We'll be blown away the
moment we lose her calm-weather protection."

"I can change local reality to revert the moving house
to normal," Modem said. "Then it might not blow away."
But he didn't look certain, because they could see the fe-
rocious dusty wind beyond the oasis of calm. There were
even phantasms forming around the edges of the calm re-
gion, making grotesque gestures to signal what they'd like
to do to the folk in the RV if they could just get close. Of
course, it would just be illusion, mostly, as long as they
kept the doors and windows closed, but even illusions

could be pretty bad.

But Nimby had an answer for Chlorine to read: " "The
present local reality must remain as it is, because soon the
house will need to travel again, and no one must leave it.
The centaurs will not be here to make it light again. Mo-
dem's local reality is the main force holding back the

magic dust.' "

David could see that Chlorine was startled as she heard
herself read that. "You mean Modem's doing more than
just keeping the lightness lasting and the inside big?" Then
she read the next answer, already in her hand. " 'Yes. His
magic reality preempts the malicious magic fostered by the

dust.' "

"It does?" Modem asked, surprised.

"I guess your magic is more potent than you know,"
Dad said, with a typical Dad smile.

" 'It is,' " Chlorine read, " 'Because the magic dust is
enhancing it. Thus the dust of madness has the ironic effect
of canceling itself, in this limited instance.' "

"Gee," Modem said, pleased.

David was, of course, too good a person to be jealous
of the importance of anybody else's role, but he did ex-
perience a certain discomfort that an ignorant person might
choose to interpret as jealousy. So he mentioned a legiti-
mate concern. "If the RV, uh, house stays light, won't it
just blow away, like Dad says?"

YON ILL WIND   265

"As Dad says," Mom said in her obnoxious English-
teacher way. He had tried to break her of that, but without
much success. Parents were slow learners.

But this time fat Adam had an answer. "I can assume
the properties of Xanth's heaviest rock, and be ballast."

"You can?" Keaira asked, evidently impressed.

"Oh, sure," Adam said. "When I'm cloud-light, I'm
like a fat balloon. When I'm fruity, I'm like a fat apple.
When I'm solid, I'm like a fat boulder. That's why folk
don't like me."

"I think it's a great talent," Keaira said.

"You do? I think your talent is the greatest. You can
be always in sunshine, or have it rain when you want it
to."

Keaira blushed. "Thank you."

"You mean you care what I think, even though I'm fat
as a pumpkin?"

"Fat pumpkins are the handsomest," she said, still
blushing.

This was getting disgusting. Time to break it up before
they actually got mushy. "Well, let's get busy," David
said. "Who rides who?"

"Who rides whom," Mom said.

David ignored it, as he would any other crude remark.
"Which bare-boobed filly is mine?"

"David!" Mom exclaimed, as Karen stifled a titter.

"Sorry," he said. "Which bare-boobed centaur?"

Mom looked as if she has swallowed a poop-flavored
prune, but this time she held her tongue. Good. Maybe he
had made his point. Of course, there'd be bleep to pay
when she finally got him alone at home, but maybe she'd
forget by then.

Chlorine read her next note. " 'Chena. She thinks
you're cute.' "

David was flabbergasted. "She does?"

Nimby nodded. He should know, since he could read
minds. No wonder he knew David would enjoy the ride!

Meanwhile Mom looked as if her prune had turned into

266   PIERS ANTHONY

a stink horn, but again she stifled her comment.

"And take some reverse wood," Chlorine read. So they
made two small bundles of two sticks each, and David
took one while Keaira took the other. They were bound
together by duct tape so they wouldn't come apart acci-
dentally, but of course, they could be ripped apart if they
were needed. Then whatever threat they encountered
would be reversed. " 'But use the wood only in an emer-
gency,' •" Chlorine read, " 'because it will nullify the cen-
taurs too, reversing their magic lightness.' ".

For sure! If David had to use his wood, he'd strip the
tape to prime it, then hurl it like a grenade. Then it would
affect only what he threw it at. He could make like Su-
perman, nulling enemies galore. Pow! You 're reversed! He
tucked the bound sticks into his belt.

They got out of the RV. All except Adam, who looked
out just long enough to spy a solid metallic rock. Then he
assumed the qualities of that rock, and became hard and
heavy. Keaira tapped her knuckle against his shoulder, ver-
ifying it, almost skinned a joint, and smiled with acknow-
ledgment. Adam looked as it he were about to float away
despite being boulder-solid.

With Adam's change, the RV was firmly planted, and
the two centaurs no longer had to hang tightly on to the
ropes. Chlorine gave the jacket she had been wearing to
David, and explained to them what Nimby had written.

"Fine," Chena said, smiling. "Get on my back, Da-
vid." There was something perky in her attitude, as if she
really did find him cute.

He adjusted that jacket, which remained pleasantly
warm from its contact with the beautiful woman, and
smelled faintly of—of what? Of a commercial swimming
pool. Of course—chlorine! The chemical used to purify
the water. Only now it was like perfume.

Dad lifted him up and set him behind Chena's lovely
white wings, which were folded but remained a bit out
from her body. Then Dad did the same for Keaira, putting
her on Crystal.

YON ILL WIND   267

"Remember, you are very light," Chena told him, turn-
ing her head and the upper part of her torso so she could
look him in the eye. That meant, unfortunately, that he had
to meet her gaze, because he didn't want to give away
what he really wanted to peek at. It was frustrating. "So
you must hold firmly on to my mane."

"Mane," he repeated dumbly. Her hair flowed down
from her head, and somewhere became the mane, but he
wasn't sure where.

"In front of you. And try to wrap your legs around my
barrel, if they will reach."

"Barrel." When she turned back to face the front, he
could look—but now nothing was in sight. That was dou-
bly frustrating.

"Take hold," she said, as she spread her wings.

Then, finally, he did. His hands found grips in the
shorter hair of her mane at the base of her human portion.

She pumped her wings, and leaped, and sailed into the
air. It seemed remarkably easy, until he remembered that
she had made herself almost as light as he was, so that she
weighed almost nothing. The motion of her wings was
mainly to move her, rather than to lift her.

But though he could see the full beautiful sweep of those
wings, he couldn't see the front of her torso. Here he
thought he would have his best chance yet to peek without
obstruction or discovery, and instead it was no chance.
"Bleep!" he muttered.

"You might consider looking across at Crystal," Chena
murmured.

She knew! Boys were not supposed to blush, but he was
afraid he was doing so. But it was a good suggestion.
"Thanks," he said, and looked.

He was rewarded by a splendid view. Crystal's wings
were pumping gracefully, and her front was completely
open to view. She was also slightly better endowed than
Chena. In fact—

Then Crystal looked their way, and he had to wrench

268   PIERS ANTHONY

his gaze away. He couldn't peek if someone was watching
him peek!

So, frustrated anew, he looked around elsewhere. To the
other side was Willow, who flew readily in her dress be-
cause it was cut to leave holes for her wings.

Now that they were all airborne. Willow flew close. Crys-
tal approached from the other side, so that they could talk to
each other. "Nimby wrote me a note explaining how to do
it," Willow said. "Happy Bottom is like a giant puzzle,
with alternating bands of wind and cloud around her center.
We have to find our way to the center, where her eye is, so
David can use his jacket to push it. Wherever the eye goes,
Happy Bottom goes; she can't help it. So we'll just keep
pushing her north to the Region of Air, where Fracto will try
to tame her. The problem will be finding her eye, and stay-
ing with it. She may try some tricks to hide it or move it
away from us. David has to push in the right place, or it
won't work, and Keaira has to stay near him so he has calm
weather. I'm the only one who is free to explore. But if I go
outside the fair-weather zone, I'll be in trouble, so you need
to stay reasonably close to me while I search."

"Gotcha," David said.

"We shall do our best," Keaira agreed.

Willow flew on ahead. There was a solid-looking ver-
tical wall of cloud, moving rapidly from west to east. It
reached down almost to the ground, and up almost to the
top of the sky. "Boy, she's a big b—bleep," David said,
awed. He knew Happy Bottom was a hurricane now, even
if she had been a mere tropical storm when she entered
Xanth; she had intensified. "Can one little jacket move all
that?"          •

"The center is much smaller," Chena said. "And
calmer. Nimby says."

"Oh. That should make it easier." But he wasn't quite
sure it was so.

Willow flew back. "There's a hole in the wall!" she
cried, excited. "Maybe we can get through it."

YON ILL WIND   269

"Can't Keaira make it calm wherever we go?" David
asked. "So we don't need to look for holes?"

"Perhaps," Willow said. "But it's better to go in with-
out disturbing the ill wind's cloud banks, so she doesn't
notice us. The moment she becomes aware of us, she could
start fighting us."

"But she's just a storm!" he protested.

"So is Fracto," Chena reminded him.

"Oh, yeah." Here in Xanth even inanimate things had
awareness. It was certainly better not to make Happy Bot-
tom aware of them.

So the two centaurs followed Willow through the fleet-
ing gap in the clouds. It closed in after them; they had
made it just in time. Now they were between two walls of
cloud, and the one ahead was moving faster than the one
behind.

David remembered something about hurricanes, because
he had seen their patterns shown on Miami radar. They
alternated cloud bands with air bands, and most of the
action was in the cloud bands. They got smaller toward
the center, but also fiercer. ' 'If we just keep going straight
through them," he said, "we'll find the center. We can't
help it. There's nowhere else it can be."

"I hope so," Chena said doubtfully. "It can be hard to
tell direction, in the middle of fog and rain."

For sure! But soon another gap opened up ahead. They
plunged through it. But this one closed up before they
completed their passage, and suddenly they were caught in
grayness. Keaira's controlled weather kept the winds from
them, but rain sluiced down from above, drenching them.
He heard the rain pelting the centaur's wings, and Chena
dipped until she flicked herself and resumed level flight.
Happy Bottom was simply too big; Keaira couldn't clear
a passage to the sunlight.

"Uh-oh," Chena said. "I think she's on to us."

David thought the same. Maybe the storm couldn't
touch them directly, but she sure could cloud things up.

270   PIERS ANTHONY

Suppose they couldn't find their way out of this cloud
bank?

Then they emerged, and it was clear. They had made it
through, this time. "Let's pick a bigger gap, next time,"
David said.

"If Willow can find one," Chena agreed.

Willow searched diligently, almost getting caught at the
edge of the calm section. David .saw her do a flip in the
air as one wing caught the edge. Yes, there was power in
the storm, and it would blow them right out of Xanth if
they got caught in it.

"Maybe I could help some," David said. "With the
jacket. I think all I have to do is open it." ThereAad been
one of Nimby's notes about that, somewhere along the
way. When closed, the windbreaker was passive, but when
opened, its magic took effect.

"I think it's better to wait until we reach the eye,"
Chena said. "Happy Bottom may know of our presence,
but not of our power. So she may consider us a nuisance,
not a threat. Best to keep it that way."

She was making sense. So they hunted along the cloud
wall, searching for that brief avenue through. While Happy
Bottom's winds seemed to get stronger.

In due course another avenue appeared. But this time
they were cautious; it could be a trap. So Willow made a
feint at it, with the two centaurs following closely behind.
Sure enough, it closed up, the fog imploding from every
side. But they had sheered off just before it, skirting the
fringe of the cloud wall. There was no doubt now: Happy
Bottom was trying to get them. But her ploy had been
simple, so she probably underestimated them.

They flew along the side, and found a thinning of the
wall, where fog had been borrowed to make the implosion.
They plunged into this. The storm had to know of then-
passage, but couldn't react fast enough to catch them,
having been caught off-guard. By the time the wind and
fog closed in, they were through.

They were in the next clear band. Apparently the hur-

YON ILL WIND   271

ricane's power was limited mostly to the cloud bands,
where the magic dust swirled thickest. But they would be
unlikely to catch her napping again.

They flew up to the next band, but it was solid fog.
They couldn't get through. They didn't dare risk another
bold charge into the fog.

"Maybe we can sneak below it," Willow suggested.
"The hills and trees must interfere with the wind bands,
so there should be gaps she can't help."

They flew down. Sure enough, there was a clear region
in the lee of a mountain. They zoomed through that, just
below the bottom of a cloud wall, skimming the terrain,
and flew up into the next clear region.

"Look!" Chena cried. "That must be the eye!"

It surely was. It looked like a monstrous eyeball, turning
in the center of the huge ring of clouds that was the in-
nermost cloud wall. This was what they had to move north.

They came up behind the orb and hovered in the calm
air. Then they oriented north, and David unzipped and
opened his jacket. "Go!" he cried.

Nothing happened.

The two centaur fillies looked at him. Willow flew close.
"Is there an invocation you have to use?"

"Nimby didn't say so," David said, disgruntled. What
was wrong? Far from blowing anything, the jacket was
completely calm.

Then David's ears popped. "Ouch! Feels like descend-
ing in an airplane," he said, shaking his head.

"I think the local pressure is rising," Keaira said.
"That's odd, because I'm not doing it."

"There's a waft of breeze coming toward us," Crystal
said. "I feel it in my mane."

"But none going away from us," Willow said. "And
what we need is a strong outward blast."

Then Chena caught on. "It's breaking the wind! Air is
coming in, but not going away. It's pooling around the
jacket, building up pressure."

"And high pressure will push the low-pressure eye

272   PIERS ANTHONY

away," Crystal added. "That must be how it works. All
we have to do is let it build up enough."

"It's building, for sure," David said. "My eardrums are
getting bonged." He held his nose and blew hard until he
felt another pop in his head.

"Look!" Chena cried again. "The eye is moving!"

And it was. There was no actual wind, but the high-
pressure zone around them was shoving the eye away.

The eye felt it, too. It spun around to fix its stormy gray
iris on them. It blinked. The pupil widened. It saw them!

"Keep pushing it!" Willow said.

David tried, but the eye slid around to the side, instead
of moving north. Chena flew to get directly south of it
again, but it slid farther to the side. It was just plain hard
to push in the direction they wanted.

"Maybe if we all try to channel the air flow," Willow
suggested. "To surround the eye."

They tried it. Willow hovered to David's left, and Crys-
tal to his right, and all three winged monsters did their best
to push the dense air forward, surrounding the eye.

"It's working!" David cried.

But then the eye, irritated, reddened and expanded. It
grew to twice its former size, then {en times as big. Now
it was impossible to push the whole thing.

"Maybe if I used my reverse wood to mess it up,"
David said, tugging at the two sticks in his belt.

"Careful with that," Keaira said, touching her own
bound sticks. "This wood is dangerous, if—"

Too late. David had grabbed just one stick. The other
snagged in his belt. The tape let go, and the two sticks
separated.

"Eeeeee!" Chena screamed, putting a good six £"s into
it. She dropped out from under him like a rock.

He had separated the reverse wood, and one stick had
landed on Chena, and it had reversed the centaur's magic
lightness, making her magically heavy. He himself was
falling too, but not as fast, because as a Mundane, he was
more resistive both to magic and reversed magic." But even

YON ILL WIND   273

the limited effect on him was too much; he was falling
toward the ground at normal falling velocity, and that
would be enough to pulp him when he struck the ground.

So he did the sensible thing: he threw away the stick.

His plummet became a slow descent, as most of the
lightness returned to his body. But he was still going down.
Already he saw the trees below.

But that wasn't all. Happy Bottom's malignant eye reap-
peared, casting about, looking for him. She must have
pretty will figured out the nature of the windbreaker.

The windbreaker! It was still open, still generating a
high-pressure zone around him. That was what was ena- -
bling the eye to orient on him; it could probably see the
crowded air. So he closed the jacket and zipped it up.

But there was still too much pressure in his vicinity.
Happy Bottom's eye continued to cast about, looking to
one side and the other, finding the pressure gradients. She
would soon locate him, and then—she would probably
blow him headfirst into a cliff. Jacket and all. He had fallen
out of Keaira's calm-weather zone, so Happy Bottom
could get at him now.

He looked desperately for some escape, but there
seemed to be none. He no longer had the reverse wood,
'thanks to his idiocy, and he had no wings to fly with. All
he could do was float gently down, while the hurricane
worked up her strength for a doomsday strike.

Then a bit of fog formed below him. But it didn't look
like Happy Bottom's fog; the color and texture differed.
What could it be?

The fog thickened into a low-lying cloud. The convo-
lutions of the cloud formed a fuzzy face. He knew that
face from somewhere.

A cloud eye winked.

"Fracto!" he cried. How had he gotten here? He must
have sneaked in, camouflaging himself as a section of
Happy Bottom. Like most clouds, Fracto could be large or
small, noisy or quiet, depending on his mood. Right now
he was being as quiet as mist.

274   PIERS ANTHONY

Happy Bottom didn't realize. David hoped his excla-
mation hadn't given Fracto away. But just what could the
enemy-turned-friend do? The hurricane was about to blow
him away regardless. Fracto, in his present form, had only
a tiny fraction of the hurricane's strength, so couldn't
counter that ill wind.

Then David fell into the cloud. The fog of its substance
surrounded him, so that he couldn't see anything beyond
it.

Which meant that no on'e could see him, either. Happy
Bottom would not know where to blow, and he was such
a small target that she'd never get anywhere blowing
blindly.

His feet touched ground. David tumbled, but wasn't
hurt, being still quite light. He was alone in the magic
jungle of Xanth.

The fog lifted just enough to let him see around if he
kept his head low. Fracto was still shielding him from the
ill wind's view, giving him a chance to find his way back
into action. But to do that, he had to find Chena Centaur.
Or rather, she had to find him. He hoped she was all right.
She should be, once she got away from that reverse wood
stick. But if he was hidden from Happy Bottom, he was
hidden from Chena too. But maybe she would know to
look for him under Fracto.

So what should he do? Stand here and wait, or try to
find a better rendezvous point? It might be dangerous to
blunder around an alien jungle, but it might also be dan-
gerous to sit and wait for whatever came to find him.

So he would at least try to find a less exposed region,
a safer place. Then if he saw a flying centaur, he could
hail her, and all would be reasonably well.

He started walking—and his right toe kicked something.
Pain shot up his leg, and he fell to the ground. What bad
he stubbed his toe on?

There was nothing there but a regular pinecone. That
couldn't be it. He reached for it—but when his fingers

YON ILL WIND   275

touched it, another jolt of pain encompassed them and shot
up his arm. That was it!

He got up, staying clear of the cone. What kind of tree
had produced that? To look so ordinary, yet bring so much
hurt to anyone who touched it.

In a moment it came to him. That wasn't a pinecone, it
was a pain cone. No wonder it had made him hurt.

He looked down at the turf by his feet, in case there
should be anything else to avoid. And shuddered. There
was somebody's severed finger! No, maybe not severed,
as it wasn't bleeding. It was curved into the form of a
circle.

Then he laughed. He knew what that was: a ring finger.
A finger circled into a ring. Maybe ogres wore it.

He walked carefully around the ring. Ahead was a sign.
It said TWIN CITY. A city? Maybe 'that would be a good,
safe place to go. So he followed the path that led away
from the sign.

He came across two girls of about his own age, playing
by the side of the path. If there was anything he wasn't
interested in, especially at this time, it was girls his own
age. So he tried to pass them by.

But they didn't let him do that. "Hi, boy—who are
you?" one called.

"And what's your business?" the other added.

Should he make up something to try to get rid of them?
No, maybe they wouldn't believe the truth, so that was
best. "I'm David Mundane, and I'm trying to save Xanth
from being blown away."

Sure enough, they tuned it out. "I'm Mariana," the first
girl said. "And this is my twin sister Anairam. Come see
what we do."

He was stuck for it, because he didn't want to make a
scene and maybe get tangled up worse. He went to see
what they were doing. To his surprise, it turned out to be
interesting.

"I do rock shaping," Mariana explained. She lifted a

276   PIERS ANTHONY

stone, and ran her hands across it, and it changed shape as

if it were clay.
In fact, maybe it was clay. "Let me see that," David

said.
Mariana handed it to him. He ran fingers over it. It was

definitely rock. Yet he had just seen her mold it. He
handed it back, and it changed again as she pressed her
fingers into it, forming a crude doll figure. Then she gave

it to her sister.

"And I animate it," Anairam said. Suddenly the doll
came to life. It sat up in her hands. She set it down, and

it ran off into the forest.

David couldn't help himself. "Those are pretty good
talents," he admitted grudgingly.

"Thank you," Mariana said. "Want to play house?"

Naturally they wanted to get into girl-games. "Some
other time," he said. Like maybe in three years. "I gotta
go." He walked on. He hoped Chena would find him soon.

Soon he came to two girls, a little younger than he was.
Was this going to be another dull session? He tried to walk

on by.

It didn't work. "Hello," one girl called. "I'm Amanda,
and this is my twin sister Adnama. We change hair color."

"Great for you," he called back. "I'm David, and I'm

walking right on by."

"But you must see," Amanda protested.

"Yes, we have nice talents," Adnama added.

"And that's not all," Amanda concluded.

He was stuck for it again. Where was Chena?

"See my hair," Amanda said. Her hair was brown, but

as he watched, it changed to yellow, and then to red. "I

can change my hair color," she said proudly.

"And I can change the hair color of others," Adnama

said, as her sister's hair changed again, to green.
"So?" David asked impatiently.
"So now I'll change yours," Adnama said.
David felt nothing, so figured she was bluffing. But then

YON ILL WIND   277

Mariana held up a mirror, and he saw his face-—framed
"by blue hair.

"Change it back!" he demanded angrily.

"After you kiss us," Adnama said.

He was really stuck for it! So he kissed them each in
turn, and Adnama restored his hair to its natural color.
Then he got the bleep out of there, before they thought of
any other games to play with him.

But farther down the path he came to two more girls.
These seemed to be about two years older than he was.
Each had long purple hair and green eyes. He was catching
on to the nature of Twin City: it was filled with twins. But
why was it all female?

This time he tackled them directly, knowing that they
wouldn't just let him pass. "I'm David Mundane, on a
mission to save Xanth," he said. "Who are you?"

"I am Leai," one said sadly. "I am suicidal, but I can't
die."

"I am Adiana," the other said, as sadly. "I want to live,
but I am dying."

Suddenly this was heavy stuff. "You can't just switch
places?"

"We haven't found the magic for that," Leai said.

"Too bad." He wondered whether they were teasing
him. If so, it wasn't the kind of joke he liked.

"Do you think I could die in Mundania?" Leai asked.

"I guess so. If it's magic that keeps you alive."

"It's magic," She said. "See." She brought out a
wicked-looking knife and tried to stab herself with it.

"Hey!" David leaped to grab her hand before the knife
could reach her flesh. He succeeded in turning it aside.
"What are you trying to do?"

"I am trying to kill myself," she said. "But I can't,
because something always stops me. Just as you did."

"That wasn't magic! I just couldn't let you do it,"

She looked squarely at him. She was rather pretty, for
a girl. "Why not? What do you care about girls?"

"Nothing," he said. "But—"

278   PIERS ANTHONY

"You'll make up some reason, but you'll always stop
me. Or someone else will. I've tried to kill myself a hun-
dred times, and I just can't do it. If there's no magic in
Mundania, maybe. I could go there with you and—"

"I'm not going to help you get there so you can kill

yourself," he said.

She nodded. "I'm not surprised. But maybe if my sister

went with you, she could live."

"But I couldn't leave you, Leai," Adiana protested. She

was sort of pretty too.

"I don't think I can help you girls," David said.
"Though I'd like to. I'd like to make you both willing and
able to live." Then an idea struck'him. "I had two sticks
of reverse wood. I lost them, but they must have fallen
somewhere around here. Maybe if you found them, they
would reverse your magics, and—"

Both girls screamed with delight. "Ah, thank you!"
Leai exclaimed, and kissed him on the right ear. "So very
very much," Adiana said, and kissed him on the left ear.
Then both ran off on a search for the reverse wood.

David would never have admitted it, but he really hadn't
minded getting kissed. He walked on down the path.

Soon he came to two more young folk, but this time
they were male and female. "I was afraid all the twins
were girls," he remarked, relieved.

"They are, in that section," the boy said. "In the next
section they are all boys. We're on the border between

sections."

"Oh. Well, hi. I'm David Mundane. I'm—"
"You're on a mission to save Xanth from Hurricane
Happy Bottom," the girl said.

"And you will succeed, .in due course," the boy said.
David had intended to say something intelligent like,
"How can you possibly know things like that, when you
have just met me!" But as usual his mouth got into gear
before his brain, so all he said was a stupid "Huh?"

Both boy and girl smiled. "We apologize," the boy
said. "We sometimes forget that strangers don't know us

YON ILL WIND   279

as we know them. I am Deja, and this is my twin sister,
Vu. My talent is to see the future, and hers is to see the
past. So when we saw you, our talents came into play, and
we knew your past and future business."

Oh. "So can you tell me where to find Chena Centaur?"

"Unfortunately, we can't," Vu said. "We can't see the
present. But I can tell you that your friend was most con-
cerned when she lost you."

"And I can tell you that she will find you in about
fifteen and one half minutes," Deja said. "Thereafter your
mission will be routine."

"If the thickening magic hasn't distorted his percep-
tion," Vu said. "We are somewhat protected from it, here
in this valley, so things are almost normal here, but that
may change. We are therefore very glad to leam of your
mission."

"Uh, thanks," David said. "I gotta get on to meet
Chena, then."

"To be sure," Deja agreed. "We wish you the very
best."

David went on down the path. There was a sign saying
TRI CITY. At least now he was out of the twins section. He
felt better.

Until he encountered three girls, evidently triplets. Oh,
no! He knew he hadn't a chance of getting through un-
scathed, but he made the effort. He maintained his pace
and tried to march on by them.

"Why, look—a singleton boy," one said. "Let's have
some fun with him."

"I'm no fun," he said quickly as they converged. They
were big girls, of the kind he would ordinarily like to sneak
peeks at, considering their short skirts, but he didn't trust
what they might think was fun. "I'm just David, a dull
Mundane."

"A Mundane!" another exclaimed. "We must see how
our magic works on him."

"Not very well," David said desperately as he came to
a stop. He had to stop, because otherwise he would have

280   PIERS ANTHONY

walked right into the one who was blocking the path

ahead.

"We shall soon see," the third said. "Hello, David
Mundane. I am Sherry. My talent is to shrink things." She
reached forth and touched him—and suddenly he was half
his normal size. "You're right—my magic doesn't work
well on you. I meant to make you much smaller."

"Please let me go," he cried, getting really worried.
Deja had said Chena would find him soon, but he hadn't
said in what state.

"But we haven't finished playing with you," the second
woman said. "I am Terry. My talent is to enlarge things."
She reached down to touch him, and suddenly he was
twice his normal size. "Oh, my, it is true; I tried to make
you invisible giant size, not baby ogre size."

David realized that in his present condition he could
bowl them over and escape. But he didn't want to stay this
way, either. "I just want to save Xanth," he pleaded.

"In that case, we had better restore you," the first
woman said. "I am Merry, and that's my talent." She
touched his leg, and suddenly he was back to normal.

Vastly relieved, he pushed on by them and fled down
the path. "Come play with us again," Sherry called after
him. "We know other games too."

"Fascinating ones," Terry added.

"For a man and three women," Merry finished.

"Not without violating the Adult Conspiracy!" he
called back, and had the satisfaction of seeing them gaze
at each other in wild surprise. "I guess that pooped your
panties," he muttered, pleased.

It must be close to the time for Chena to find him. David
hurried on along the path, hoping he wouldn't encounter
any more mischievous girls.

He was startled by a loud howl. It sounded halfway like
the world's least-oiled door hinge, and halfway like the
world's hungriest hound. What could it be?

It turned out to be a huge canine-creature. But it wasn't
flesh and blood. It was made out of wood. Its legs were

YON ILL WIND   281

like uprooted saplings, its body was like a section of a tree
trunk, and its teeth were sharpened wooden pegs glistening
with sap. It was a timber wolf!

David wasn't sure whether to freeze in the hope that it
wouldn't see him, or speak soothingly to it in the hope
that he could befriend it. So he took the compromise
course: he ran like all bleep.

He heard the timber wolf bounding after him. He was
going as fast as he could, which was pretty fast, because
he remained pretty light, but he heard the bounding foot-
falls coming closer behind him.

"Heellpp!" he screamed.

A winged form swooped down on him. "Ah, there you
are!" Chena exclaimed. She caught him in her arms and
hauled him up as she pumped her wings. The timber wolf
leaped and snapped, but they were just out of his reach.
Phew!

"Now get on my back," the centaur said, wrestling him
around behind her. He obliged, and soon was properly
seated.

They rose up into the protective shroud of fog. Only
then did he realize that one of his fahcies had just been
realized—and he hadn't even noticed. She had clasped him
to her bare front when she lifted him from the ground, and
he had been so distracted by the timber wolf that he had
paid no attention to what else was happening. What an
idiot he had been!

He covered his chagrin as well as he could. "How did
you find me?" he asked.

"Practo provided cover, and knew where you were.
Once we learned how to communicate with him, we went
right to you."

"We?"

"Crystal is flying right above us, but Keaira isn't using
her power now, so we can hide from Happy Bottom.
Fracto is being really helpful; we wouldn't be able to do
this without him."

282   PIERS ANTHONY

"Yeah, he hid me from Happy Bottom," David agreed.
"But how did you talk with him?"

"We devised a fog-ball code. One ball for yes, two for
no, and a fog arrow to show where to find you. He said
you were all right, but that a tree dog was closing in on
you, so we had to hurry."

"That was a timber wolf!" David said, laughing.

Chena laughed too. "Timber wolf! Of course! We ze-
roed in from forest to tree, and from animal to dog, but
couldn't make better sense of it in the time we had. Any-
way, Fracto will lead us back to the eye, but after that it
will be up to us, because he'll have to get in front of Happy
Bottom and lure her into the Region of Air."

"How is he leading us? All I see is fog."

She pointed ahead. "See that nicker of lightning ahead?
I have to keep flying toward that. He will lead me under
or around or through the storm bands until we reach the
eye. Then he'll fade away."

"But how will we herd her, if she just explodes her   j
eyeball like she did before?"                             ;

"As she did before," Chena murmured, but somehow it   j
wasn't as offensive as when Mom corrected him. "I must
confess that I am not sure about that. Now Happy Bottom
knows what she's up against, so she'll fight us every breath
of the way. We'll have to do it just right."

"I hope somebody knows what she's doing, like maybe
Keaira," David said, "because I sure don't."

"I'm sure there was excellent reason for Nimby to des-
ignate you to wear the jacket," Chena said diplomatically.

"I dunno. Nimby reads minds, and knows what's going
on, but he can't see the future. So he might be wrong."

"He reads minds?" she asked, seeming modestly

alarmed.

David realized that she didn't know that Nimby had told
him she thought he was cute. Better that she not know.
"Well, maybe he just knows what's all around, so it seems
like mind reading sometimes. I guess if he'd looked in
mine, he'd have known I wasn't the best one for this job."

YON ILL WINO   283

"No, I'm sure there was reason," she said. "As with
the Good Magician's decisions. We merely have to fathom
it."

"Lotsa luck."

"Yes, good fortune would definitely be an asset," she
agreed, mistaking his irony. "Perhaps your mishap with
the reverse wood sticks was not a true accident, but part
of your qualification."

"Yeah, sure, assign a foul-up kid to drive a fouled-up
hurricane," he said, not thrilled with the analogy.

"Perhaps in Mundania, it is different," she said deli-
cately. "But in Xanth, seemingly inconsequential things
may have significance. Did you encounter anything on the
ground that might relate?"

"Just a bunch of girls," he said disdainfully. Then, be-
latedly, "No offense intended."

She laughed. "None taken. I am a filly, not a girl. What
kind of girls were they?"

"That was the funny thing. They were all twins. It was
called Twin City, though it didn't look much like a city.
They had sort of complementary talents, like rock shaping
and rock animation, or changing her own hair color, or
somebody else's hair color, or being unable to die or un-
able to live." He paused, because that last pair had touched
his emotion, and not just because they were pretty.
"Maybe I managed to help them, because of the dropped
sticks of reverse wood. If they find those, maybe one can
live, and the other can want to live."

"They were surely glad to leam of those," Chena
agreed.

"Yeah, they kissed me. Of course, I hated that."
"Of course." She knew he didn't mean it.
"Then I met twins who were only half girl, Deja and
Vu. He saw the future, she the past. He said I would suc-
ceed. But I don't see how." His voice had continued on,
but his mind lagged at Leai and Adiana, with the long
purple hair and green eyes and the awful predicaments. He
hoped they did find the sticks.

284   PIERS ANTHONY

"The sticks!" he exclaimed, rudely interrupting him-
self. "That's how!"

"Beg pardon?" Chena asked politely.

"The reverse wood sticks! I think I got it! Together they
are inert, but separate they mess up magic. I messed you
up before, but now we can mess up Happy Bottom."

"I recovered as soon as I fell away from the wood,"
Chena said. "No real harm was done. But how can the
wood enable us to accomplish our mission?"

' 'I lost my sticks, but maybe that was just as well. But
Keaira still has hers, doesn't she?"

"Yes."

"Well, she should tie them to two separate ropes, so she
can trail them together or pull them apart from a distance
when she needs to," he said, working it out as he talked.
"The range is limited, isn't it? So that way it doesn't affect
us, but it should reverse whatever the eye is doing."

"Yes, certainly. But how can trailing the sticks at a
distance enable us to accomplish our mission?"

"We can drag them by the eye, when it tries to escape
by exploding," he explained. "So then its magic will be
reversed, and the eye will implode, and we can keep on
herding it. It won't be able to get away."

"Why, David, that's brilliant!" she exclaimed.

"Gee," he said, pleased to have his mess-up with the
sticks turn good. Because he would never have thought of
it, if it hadn't been for his misadventure.

Suddenly the fog ended. There was Crystal Centaur fly-
ing above them, with Keaira. There was Willow, flying to
the side. And there was the glowering eye, directly ahead.

"Thank you, anonymous benefactor," Chena called as
the fog faded. David knew why: she couldn't speak
Fracto's name now, lest Happy Bottom overhear and catch
on to his role in this. practo still had a job to do, once she
was in the Region of Air. She wouldn't speak to him, if
she knew his role too soon.

The three winged monsters rendezvoused, and David ex-
plained his idea. The centaurs had ropes; it was one of the

YON ILL WIND   285

things they routinely carried, and Willow had cord in her
surprisingly capacious purse, too. They tied two ropes to
the two sticks of reverse wood, keeping them carefully
together. Because they didn't want those sticks to separate
too soon.

Meanwhile the eye was staring at them, and the cloud
wall behind them was intensifying. Happy Bottom was
priming for action. She knew they were up to something,
but she wasn't sure exactly what.

They oriented on the eye. David unzipped the wind-
breaker. The air pressure began to rise.

Happy Bottom didn't wait for the push. The eye ex-
panded explosively.

Keaira tossed the two reverse wood sticks toward the
eye. They were light as air, having been treated by a flick
of Crystal's tail. When they floated to the end of their
tether, actually inside the fringe of the expanding eye,
Keaira jerked on one rope, and the sticks separated.

Suddenly the eye was shrinking implosively. The iris
looked surprised. In a moment it was so tight and small
that it was hardly bigger than a baseball. One stick of re-
verse wood floated near it. Stunned, the eye spun rapidly
in place, a glazed look on its pupil.

Then Keaira reeled in the stick, until it lined up with
the other. She had to do this because otherwise the wood
would reverse their own magic, like it—as it had before.

Yuck! Now he wasn't even waiting for Chena to correct
him; he was doing it to himself. Disgusting.

Meanwhile the air pressure was building up. David held
his breath and blew out his ear tubes, happy to suffer this
inconvenience.

Keaira hauled in the two sticks and held them together.
Then Chena stroked with her wings, and moved slowly
forward toward the eye. Happy Bottom had not yet real-
ized what they had done, and the eye was just staying
there. As they advanced, it retreated, wafted along by the
high pressure.

That was the way of it. Each time the eye expanded, the

286   PIERS ANTHONY

reverse wood contracted it again, so that it couldn't escape.
They pushed it north to the Gap Chasm. By then night was
falling; they could see the curtain of darkness dropping
from the sky in the east. The sun, afraid of the dark, fled
to the west. It would be too hard to herd Happy Bottom
by night. She was unlikely to pursue them southward, if
she ever realized they were withdrawing. So they flew rap-
idly south, following Willow, who best knew the terrain.
They were hardly concerned about the bands of clouds,
because those had been pretty much broken up with the

focus on the eye.

Even so, it was after dark by the time they made it to
the RV. Fortunately it had a light on, so they could spy it
from afar, and they landed safely beside if.

Scan must have heard them coming, because he was
standing out waiting. Willow flew down into his embrace.
There followed a disgusting amount of hugging, kissing,
and breathless endearments. David made a mental note:

never stray near a love spring.

15
REVERSAL

Tweeter rather liked this magic land of Xanth, where
birds were so prominently represented. It had been
fun meeting Roxanne Roc and playing with Sim
Chick, and Tweeter had taught Sim some dirty bird jokes
that no nonbird would understand. But now he was about
ready to go home, where things were more settled. He
really wasn't an adventurous bird; good seed, a daylong
snooze in the cage, and some fun with Karen at the end
of the day were all he really craved. Even this business of

YON ILL WIND   287

being intelligent was becoming wearing, in part because it
made him so much more aware of things. How could a
bird be happy and secure in his ignorance, when he was
too smart? True, it had been nice getting to know Woofer
and Midrange better, and they had proved to be loyal
friends, but all of them now recognized that they were not
looking for independent existence. Let the human folk suf-
fer the stresses of intelligent life.

Now it was dawn, and time for the winged monsters—
nice identification, that—to take David and Keaira out to
finish herding Happy Bottom into the Region of Air. By
nightfall the job would be done, and Xanth would be
saved. Tomorrow they could go home.

The winged posse headed out. David was clearly feeling
pretty important, because he had figured out how to use
the reverse wood to stop Happy Bottom's eye from escap-
ing them. Now the hurricane had no choice but to be
pushed ever northward, until she got locked into the Re-
gion of Air, where Fracto would seduce her and tame her.
Fracto was probably more interested in that aspect than in
saving Xanth, but certainly Fracto was helping them to
accomplish the mission. Give the omery cloud his due.

The winds had died with the retreat of the storm, and
the magic dust was settling out. It fertilized the landscape
with another layer of magic, so that the plants were recov-
ering vigorously and the animals were getting frisky. They
knew that the terrible threat to Xanth was being abated, so
their lives were reverting to normal.

Now it was time to move the RV north, to be closer to
the scene of action. With the storm abated, they needed
neither Keaira's patch of calm weather nor the winged cen-
taurs. Adam looked at a cloud and became as tenuous as
it was. Without his rock-solid ballast, the RV floated gently
into the sky. The Demoness Mentia became a crazy in-
flated giant hand and pushed it north. Tweeter went out
for a fly and watched. It was weird seeing the ungainly
contraption floating like a huge loaf of bread, with that big
hand grabbing it. It was weirder when Karen came out to

288   PIERS ANTHONY

join him; she had no wings, but remained air-light because
of Modem's spell of changed reality, so she floated. She
had a tether so she couldn't drift; her sensible mother had
insisted on at least that much. This was the first, and prob-
ably the last, time they would fly together like this.

By midday they were nearing Castle Roogna. They went
inside the RV to clean up so they would be presentable
for the royalty there. Tweeter settled onto his perch and
did a careful preening. The adventure was nearing its con-
clusion.

Suddenly Nimby the transformed dragon got nervous.
' 'What is it?'' Chlorine asked. She had been paying Nimby
more attention, now that Sean was no longer interested in
looking at her legs. What humans saw in human legs,
Tweeter didn't understand; they were such fat fleshy things
that couldn't even take hold of a branch, with laughably
inadequate claws. For that matter, the rest of the featherless
bodies of the humans weren't very aesthetic either, which
was why they usually covered them up. But evidently they
had learned to live with their liabilities.

Nimby wrote a note. Chlorine read it, and was alarmed.
"Land immediately? But soon we'll be at Castle Roogna.
It's just jungle below us here."

Dad came alert. ' 'If Nimby says it, we had better do it.
Adam, can you shift slowly to stone nature?"

Adam could; he had emulated a stone so long that he
remembered it. The RV lost its buoyancy and began to

descend.

Mentia popped in. "Hey, what gives? You're sinking!"
"We have to land now," Chlorine said. "Nimby says."
"When we're so close to the comforts of Castle
Roogna? Ask him why."

Chlorine turned to the nondescript man. ' 'Why?''
He handed her another note. She read it aloud. " 'Be-
cause the Law of Averages has been overturned on ap-
peal.' "

All of the humans drew blanks. A question mark ap-
peared over Chlorine's head. "What law?"

YON ILL WIND   289

"That's not something that can be repealed," Dad said.
"It's a law of nature."

"You forg'et where you are," Mom said grimly.

"Who appealed it?" Chlorine asked Nimby. "Who
overturned it?"

It turned out that the junior computing program Sending
was the culprit. He had not liked losing possession of
Woofer and Tweeter, or getting disconnected by the re-
verse wood, or losing his windbreaker jacket. According
to the Law of Averages, he was bound to win some and
lose some, but he didn't like losing, so he had appealed to
the Muses of Mount Parnassus. He had claimed that no
ordinary person could have answered his twenty questions,
so something extraordinary was afoot, messing up reality.
He wanted that reality changed.

"But that's just your nature," Chlorine protested to
Nimby. "You know everything around you."

Nimby shrugged. Evidently the Muses had seen merit
in the challenge, so had granted the appeal. The Law of
Averages had been reversed.

"That's liable to have one bleep of a consequence,"
Dad said grimly. "The fundamental order of the universe
is governed by—''

He was interrupted by a sudden buffet of wind that
shook the RV. He staggered, almost getting thrown into a
wall.

"Get it down!" Sean said. "Happy Bottom's coming
back!"

Adam increased his solidity, and the RV dropped. Even
so, the wind tried to bash it. Mentia extended an eyeball
from her face and peered outside. "Ground coming close;

lighten up.," she said.

Adam did, and the RV made a halfway soft landing in
the jungle. Tweeter looked out, and saw that it hadn't
missed a tree by much. The winds howled as if angry to
have let the RV get away. As if? They were angry.

"David!" Mom cried, distraught. "Willow! The cen-
taurs! Are they being blown away?"

290 PIERS ANTHONY

"Willow!" Scan echoed, agonized.

"Keaira's with them," Dad reminded them. "She can
keep their weather calm. But they may have trouble getting
back here."

Sean looked at Nimby. "Sending got the Law of Av-
erages revoked—and now everything's going haywire? All
the unlikely wrong things are happening? And we're all in
deep bleep? Just when we figured we'd won the game?"

Nimby nodded four times.

"Why didn't you warn us?" Mom demanded hysteri-
cally. "Before we sent them out into disaster? My poor
child!"

"Nimby is omniscient, not prescient," Dad reminded
her. "He can't see the future. And probably this appeal
Sending made was done privately, with no obvious evi-
dence until the decision was made, so it didn't attract
Nimby's attention. Even if a person can see everything, he
can't pay attention to it all; the volume is overwhelming."

"Spoken like a true physics professor," she retorted bit-
terly. "That's our son out there."

"And my love," Sean added.

Adam also looked pained; Keaira was out there too, and
she had shown an interest in him, which he evidently re-
turned.

Dad spread his hands. "I'm concerned too. But it isn't
fair to blame Nimby. Without him we couldn't have gotten
even this far."

Mom suffered a pang of reasonableness. "Yes, of
• course." She faced the dragon man. "I apologize. Nimby.
I spoke intemperately."

Nimby looked embarrassed. Dragons surely did not re-
ceive many apologies from human women.

"You guys are missing the point," Karen said. She
faced Nimby. "What can we do about it?"

Nimby wrote a long note and gave it to Chlorine. " 'The
success of the mission now hangs by a thread that is rap-
idly unraveling. We must go to fetch a new thread, before
the old one breaks. Then all can be salvaged.' "

YON ILL WIND   291

"Who must fetch the thread?" Sean asked.

" 'Nimby, Chlorine, and Tweeter,' " Chlorine read
• from the next note.

Tweeter almost fell off his perch. ' 'Meep?''

Sean smiled. "Yep, youp, birpbrain," he said. "Go
. fetch the thread."

"When?" Chlorine asked, almost as surprised.
Nimby walked toward the door.

"Now," Chlorine answered herself. She looked around.
"I promise to do my very best. Come perch on me,
Tweeter."

He looked uncertainly at Karen.

"Do it. Tweet," Karen said. "But take care of yourself.
What would I do without you?" She looked as if she had
more than one or two tears to stifle.

Tweeter flew over to perch on Chlorine's greenish hair.
It didn't have the special familiarity of Karen's reddish
hair, but it was very nice regardless.

"May you succeed soon," Mom breathed as they
stepped out into the howling wind. "We'll wait here."

"Thank God for a good anchor," Sean said, as another
gust of wind tried to get at the RV.

Outside, Nimby assumed his dragon form, and Chlorine
mounted him. "Are we going far?" she asked through her
windblown hair. Tweeter was scrambling to get a better
grip, lest he be blown right out of it. That was one savage
ill wind out here!

The dragon shrugged, unable to answer. But Tweeter
knew it couldn't be too far, or they would not be able to
get the thread in time.

A swirl of magic dust stirred up ahead of them. Nimby
plunged into it. Tweeter experienced disorientation; this
was awful stuff, which didn't merely coat the wings and
beak; it affected a person's interior too.

"Where are we going?" Chlorine asked, evidently as
uncomfortable as Tweeter was. But Nimby couldn't write
a note, in his dragon form.

So as the swirl of dust settled out. Nimby assumed his

292   PIERS ANTHONY

human form and began writing a note. Meanwhile Chlo-
rine saw a path leading to a pleasant-berry patch, so she
walked toward it. The berries looked good to Tweeter too,
so he stayed with her, riding on her head. •

She picked the first pleasant-berry and put it in her
mouth. Suddenly an unpleasant man appeared. "You have
stolen my berry!" he cried. "Now I shall steal something
of value to you." He advanced on her, looking as if he
happened to be thinking of the roughest, ugliest stork.

"Stop, or I'll poison your water," she warned him.

"You can't poison anything after eating a pleasant-
berry," he retorted as he grabbed for her, and evidently it
was true, because he did not double over in pain.

Chlorine tried to escape, but the path behind her had
abruptly overgrown with horrendous brambles. So she
screamed'instead. Even that had a pleasant sound, as if she
didn't really mean it.

"That won't save you, you luscious creature," the man
said. "You are trapped. Nothing less than a dragon could
rescue you—and what dragon would bother? Dragons
don't like being pleasant." He reached for her.

Then there was a thud and crash, and Nimby came
charging across. He did not look at all pleasant. Comical,
maybe, but not pleasant. The man took half a look at the
huge dragon body and fled. Tweeter was glad the man
hadn't gotten a good look at Nimby's innocuous head; he
would have realized that this dragon wasn't much of a
threat even away from a pleasant-berry patch.

Nimby paused just long enough for Chlorine to get on
him, then moved on. "You saved me. Nimby!" she cried,
relieved. "This damsel needed a dragon, and you're my
dragon." She paused. "But I guess you lost the note you
were writing."

Nimby nodded, looking embarrassed.
"Well, I wouldn't have gotten in trouble if I hadn't
asked you a stupid question and made you change to man-
form, and then wandered away from you, like the shallow
creature I am," she said. "So you just stay the way you

YON ILL WIND   293

are. Nimby; I'm sure you know where you are going, and
will get us safely there."

But Nimby's donkey snoot looked doubtful, and that
alarmed Tweeter. Suddenly he suspected that this mission
might not be as simple or safe as they had assumed.

"No offense. Nimby, but I think I could use a weapon,
just in case," Chlorine said. Tweeter agreed; Nimby
wouldn't be able to bluff too many more hostile creatures.
"So you won't have to rescue me from any more berry
patches. Ah—there's a gourdless phone; let me make a
call on that." And she swept up a small gourd that had no
vine. "Hey, do you have any ribbons or bows in stock?"
she said into it.

The dust cleared farther, and the forest seemed to be
returning to a reasonable semblance of normal. Tweeter
had a .dropping to drop, so he flew to a tree ahead to take
care of it. It wouldn't be proper to drop it in Chlorine's
beautiful silken hair, after all.

He landed on a branch and took care of his business.
But then a larger bird appeared. "Haa!" he cried in bird
talk. "You have besmirched my tree, and now I shall be-
smirch you, you tasty morsel of a mouthful." He looked
as if he were thinking of savory fresh gizzards garlanded
with hot drops of blood..

Tweeter tried to flee, but the predator took off too, and
he had more powerful wings. "I am rapt with the rapture
of wrapping your ragamuffin remains with my ravenous
rapier," the raptor rapped.

Tweeter flew desperately toward Nimby, but knew he
wouldn't get there in time, and anyway, what could a don-
key head do to stop a swift predatory bird?

Then a shaft flew by him, so close it ruffled his tail
feathers. It was an arrow, and it passed close to the pur-
suing raptor too.

"The next one won't miss, hawk-eye," Chlorine said.
"This bow is cross, if not actually angry, and it is eager
to score." Indeed she held a crossbow.

The raptor considered, then veered off. It knew that irate

294   PIERS ANTHONY

bow wouldn't fire another mere warning shot; it would go
for the kill. Chlorine had saved Tweeter from a fate worse
than life. He landed in her hair, thankful for her help.

They moved on through the forest. Later they paused
by another berry patch to eat. There was a man there, but
he did not look hostile. "Do you mind if we eat some of
these berries?" Chlorine inquired, smiling nicely. But
Tweeter knew she was braced for possible trouble, with
her crossbow near at hand.

"Not at all," he replied. "I'm just passing through.
They are good berries."

"I'm Chlorine, and these are Nimby and Tweeter.
We're looking for a new story thread. Have you seen

any?"

"I'm Ray. All I have seen are worn old story threads,
I'm sorry to say. They don't make them the way they used
to. The person you want to ask is the Pawpaw Wizard."

"The who?"

"He's a storyteller," Ray explained. "He surely knows
where all the best story threads are." •

"Then we must go to him," Chlorine said. Tweeter saw
Nimby nod; this was evidently where the dragon had been
taking them anyway. "Could you tell us where to find

him?"

"I'll do better than that," Ray said. "I'll show you

where he is. It's not far from here."

Tweeter realized that the man was probably being so
nice because Chlorine looked so nice, for her species. Still,
they could use the help. Nimby had no objection, which

was a good sign.

"Where are you going?" Chlorine inquired as they ate.
"I am looking for a money tree I was told grows in this

vicinity," Ray said. "I've been looking all day, but I just

can't find it."

"But money isn't any use," Chlorine said. "It just gets

dirty."

"I know. But I have a pet money spider, and all it will

eat is money, so I need some more." •

YON ILL WIND   295

Tweeter finished his berry and flew up to get a look at
the lay of the land. In a hollow just out of sight of the
berry patch he spied a tree whose leaves had green backs.
That could be it. So he swooped down and plucked a leaf
with his beak, then flew back to drop it by the man.

"That's it!" Ray exclaimed. "That's money! You
found it! Where is it?"

Tweeter flew back toward the money tree, leading the
man. Ray was delighted. "This will feed Spider Mon for
a year!" he exclaimed, stuffing a pocket full of the leaves.
"How can I repay you?"

Tweeter shrugged. He didn't need any repayment for
such a favor; it was just an incidental thing.

"Well, maybe something will turn up," Ray said.

They resumed their travel, with Ray walking ahead to
show the way. "There is a bad dragon in these parts," he
said. "I prefer to avoid him, but he lurks near the Pawpaw
Wizard's home, hoping to catch a careless child. He looks
like this." An image of a ravening fire-breathing dragon
appeared before him.

"Oh!" Chlorine cried, for an instant mistaking it for the
real thing.

The image vanished. "I'm sorry," Ray said. "I should
have warned you. That's my talent—to cause a picture of
what I see to appear, in any size. I've seen that awful
dragon so many times I can show it from my head. Nor-
mally I must be looking at something to picture it. I should
have shown it much smaller." The image reappeared,
harmlessly tiny.

"I certainly hope we don't encounter that dragon,"
Chlorine said. ' 'I much prefer the harmless mule-headed
variety." She patted Nimby on the scales. The scales she
touched brightened.

But they were not in luck. There was a bellowing roar,
and the ground shook as something solid tramped toward
them through the forest.

"Hide!" Chlorine cried, looking wildly around. But

296   PIERS ANTHONY

they happened to be in a broad glade; there was nowhere

to hide.

"Maybe I can make a picture of a tree or something,"

Ray said uncertainly. "To hide us."
But Tweeter had a better idea. He flew to the man and

peeped imperatively.

"Maybe so," Ray agreed. "I'll try it." He fixed his

eyes on Tweeter.

The dragon burst from the forest, trailing a plume of
smoky fire. There was no doubt it had wind of them. But
as its burning snoot oriented, a monstrous image of
Tweeter appeared before them. As tall as the trees. Picture
Tweeter peered down at the much smaller dragon.

The reptile hesitated, eyeing the big bird. It was clear it
hadn't seen anything quite like this before: a parakeet as
big as a roc. But it could smell Tweeter's bird odor, so
knew there was a bird there. Tweeter hoped it wouldn't be
smart enough to realize that the real bird wasn't as big as

the apparent bird.

Tweeter took a giant step toward the dragon—and
Nimby lifted a front foot and slammed it into the ground,
making a dull thud. Tweeter took another step, with an-
other thud. Tweeter opened his beak, and the giant mir-
rored him exactly. That beak was big enough to take in

the whole dragon head.

The dragon had had enough. It turned tail and fled.
"Oh, glorious!" Chlorine exclaimed, delighted. "You

saved us. Tweeter!"

Tweeter shook his head, and the giant bird did too. He
hadn't done it; Ray's huge image had. Ray had more than
repaid the favor he thought he owed. Yet Tweeter did feel
a certain foolish pride; never before, and probably never
again, would he back off a fire-dragon! It had been a great

experience.

They walked on, and came to another glade. There sat
a short fat man with short stocky legs, a bald pate sur-
rounded by a fringe of gray hair, and an infamously huge
stomach. Mundane-style spectacles perched on his nose.

YON ILL WIND   297

He spied me party and smiled. "Hello, Ray. Who are
your friends? They don't look much like children. Of
course, few children dare venture out, with this remarkable
recent weather we've been having."

Ray smiled. "They found the money tree for me! Now
Spider Mon will be happy. They need to find a fresh story
thread, and I told them you were the one to see." He
turned halfway to face the group. "The damsel is Chlorine,
the dragon is Nimby, and the bird is Tweeter. I hope you
can help them. Now I must go home with my money,
before the storm gets worse." He departed.

"I am Gerald Towne, once from Mundania," the Paw-
paw Wizard said. "I believe I recognize a fellow Mun-
danian." He looked at Tweeter. "A parakeet."

Tweeter chirped agreement.

"So, of course, I'm not really a wizard in the proper
sense, because only natives have magic, but the children
do like my tales," the Wizard said. "I have many fine
story threads. And I know where others are. What kind do
you need?"

Nimby assumed man-form and wrote a note. "I think
you folk must have quite a story of your own," the Wizard
remarked, observing the change of form. "Perhaps some-
day you will share it with me."

"Maybe when the crisis is over," Chlorine agreed. Then
she took the note. ' 'We need a strong original reverse story
thread."

The Wizard whistled. "You must be on serious business
indeed! Then I won't delay." He gestured to a table beside
him. "Have some peanut butter, jelly, and cheese sand-
wiches while I explain."

They settled down to share the sandwiches. Chlorine put
some peanut butter on her finger for Tweeter to eat, and
it was good, because there were some peanut chunks in it.

The Pawpaw Wizard began his story. "There was once,
about two hundred years ago, a very. unpopular Magician
named Joshua. His talent was to reverse magical proper-
ties, whether these were talents or charms. Because most

298   PtERS ANTHONY

folk did not like to have their talents reversed, especially
when they were nice ones, they stayed away from Joshua
in droves. For example, there was one young woman
whose talent was to smell of perfume; when Joshua
touched her, she stnelled of stink horn. There was a young
man whose talent was to scale walls by sticking to them
with his hands and feet; when he brushed by Joshua, he
became slippery instead, so that he couldn't even stick to
the ground without slipping. Another man could always
find the right spot for something, whether for an excellent
snooze or for a dog to mark territory. After he met Joshua,
he always found the wrong spot, leading to considerable
embarrassment. So Joshua was not welcome in his home
village, or anywhere else, once the people had experience
with him, though he was a perfectly decent and well-
intentioned man. Fortunately his reversals were not per-
manent, unless done intentionally; they would slowly fade
in the course of a few weeks or months, and the normal
talents would reassert themselves. So people wanted
Joshua to go away and stay away. And so Joshua traveled

a lot.

"One day he happened to come upon a fine grove of

Xanthorrhoed trees. They were unfamiliar to him, and
grew so thickly they barred his passage, so he invoked his
talent to reverse their magic. He did not realize that they
belonged to a powerful witch, who had imbued them with
special magic to enhance the magic of others. When he
reversed them, they in turn reversed the magic of others,
and were unusable for the witch's purposes. She, in a fury,
set her pet griffins on Joshua, and they tore him to pieces
before he could reverse them. Thus he died, and no one
mourned him. The witch, still furious, then chopped up the
trees and scattered them all around Xanth. She thought that
would denature them, but instead the wood maintained its
strength, and remains potent today. Thus the origin of re-
verse wood, the source of a great deal of mischief and
some benefit throughout Xanth.

"But in the course of his career, Joshua once encoun-

YON ILL WIND   299

tered a fine thread of a story. Again not realizing its na-
ture—he was by no means the brightest of Magicians—he
reversed it, ruining the story it was supposed to support.
Disgusted, the tale teller of the time threw it away, and it
was lost. Thus that reverse story thread remains some-
where, we know not where, if it has not been destroyed.
That is the thread you require. But I have no idea how you
can get it."

The Pawpaw Wizard sat back. Tweeter sagged. How
could they get a thread, if it had been destroyed two cen-
turies ago? Their mission was surely doomed.

But Nimby was writing another note. Chlorine took it
and read it. " 'How do the forces of nature feel about
traveling in time?' "

The Wizard whistled again. "They don't like it, because
they regard it as being against nature. But they do have
the power to give a person a pass to travel in time, if they
can be persuaded that this is necessary. I suppose you
could ask them, if you think your reason is persuasive."

"Well, it's to save Xanth from being blown away,"
Chlorine said.

The Wizard nodded. "That does seem persuasive. I wish
you well." He hesitated, then remarked, "I don't mean to
pry, but if you really have a way to go back then, I may
have some additional information."

Chlorine looked at Nimby. "I think we do intend to go
there."

"Then I must warn you of another person who lived in
that time." And he plunged into his story.

He was Xanth's very worst vampire, a mean creature who
really sucked. His very name would strike fear into the
bravest of the brave, so I won't mention it here. Most
people simply called him Fang Face. It was thought that
he could be killed only by a reverse wood stake through
the heart, but since reverse wood didn't exist quite then,
it seemed he was invulnerable. A few people knew that he
disliked garlic and feared sunlight, but it wouldn't be easy

300   PIERS ANTHONY

to kill him in those ways. You couldn't just take a blood-
thirsty vampire for a stroll in the sun, or invite him to share
a slice of garlic bread with you. No, it was going to take
more than that to dispatch old Fang Face!

But after the vampire sucked a woman so dry that she
had to be dunked immediately in a healing spring, and still
looked rather desiccated, her husband decided it was time
to get rid of him. "I'm going to get that sucker," he swore.

Unfortunately his talent was just of the spot-on-the-wall
variety, not worth mentioning. When it came to matching
anyone's magic, he felt quite inferior. He knew that if he
challenged the vampire directly, he would merely become
another blood donor. But he was a strong man, and an
intelligent one, so he concluded that he could probably do
it if he just used his head. His name was, uh, well, for-
gettable. He wasn't a very memorable person anyway. All
that matters is what he did this one time.

He fashioned a dummy out of various objects, such as
a milk pod for a head and lady fingers for hands, and a
pair of jugs for the upper torso. But he turned out to be
pretty good at dummying, and the result had considerable
stork appeal. It looked just like a very sanguine young
woman—that is, filled with tasty blood. He propped her
up atop a pile of dry wood. Then he covered her with
supersticky sap, and arrow grass, and tangled tree tenta-
cles. The tentacles looked like a skirt that covered not quite
enough of her plump legs, and the sap looked like a cling-
ing blouse over her ample bosom. But anything that
touched that lush body would be stuck to it for some time.

He hauled the entire assemblage—body and woodpile—
to a path near the vampire's crypt and set it up in a mar-
velously appealing fashion. The trap was set.

Now to bait it. "Help!" the man screamed in a falsetto
voice from behind the dummy. "I'm an innocent lovely
sweet juicy damsel in deep distress! I'm all tied up, and
can hardly even kick my tender feet, let alone escape.
Won't someone please rescue me before I catch a sniffle
from all this exposure?"

YON ILL WIND   301

Soon a man came along the path. He was a cool char-
acter, which was obvious because he wore snowshoes. But
the snow almost melted when he spied the lovely dummy.
"Well, now," he said, and took a step toward her. "The
storks will get no rest today."

But this was the wrong man. He wasn't the vampire. He
was just a typical sexist lunkhead whose elimination
wouldn't make any difference to anyone. It was necessary
to make him go away in a hurry.

"Oh, thank you, kind sir!" the husband cried in his
cracked falsetto voice. "I never thought a man as hand-
some as you would take an interest in me. I'm just one of
several aides to the cruel vampire."

The lunk paused. "You're a what?"

"One of the aides," the husband cried. "Aides!
AIDES!"

"That's what I thought you said! I'm not touching any
aides. I'm outta here!" And the lunk took off, leaving
behind chunks of snow from his cold feet.

The husband sighed a breath of relief. Only his quick
and dirty wit had saved his trap that time. He hoped the
vampire would be the next one to pass by.

This time his fortune was good. The vampire arrived.
"Methinks I see a luscious creature," he opined. "San-
guine and helpless—exactly the way I prefer." He
marched up and plunged his fangs into the temptingly ex-
posed flesh of the dummy.

Then he recoiled. "This isn't blood!" he cried in out-
rage. "This is milk! What are you doing with milk in your
body?"

"Exactly where did you bite me?" the husband asked
in his falsetto. "You should know better than to bite a
milkmaid in the heaving bosom."

"I didn't bite your bosom, I bit your neck!" the vampire
screamed. "Do you think I don't know where to bite a
helpless damsel? Anyway, it wasn't heaving." Then he
realized the significance of that. "Hey! This isn't a real
woman—it's a stupid dummy!"

302   PIERS ANTHONY

"Fancy that," the husband said, abandoning the falsetto,
which was becoming a strain anyway. "1 guess it takes
one to bite one."

The vampire tried to pull away, but the arrow-grass hair
had caught his head, and the tentacle skirt had grabbed his
legs. In addition, the sticky sap had glued his face to the
dummy's neck. "Help!" he cried. "All I wanted to do
was have a nice snack of blood, and now I'm stuck."

"And in a moment you'll be a roast, you sap," the
husband said gleefully. "Just as soon as I light a fire under
you." And he proceeded to do just that.

"You fool!" the vampire cried out of the side of his
stuck face. "You can't kill me! I'm immortal!"

"Oh, I'm sure that's an exaggeration," the husband
said, warming his hands as the fire blazed up.

"Not much of one," the vampire clarified. "You'll see,
you fool. I'll be back to taste your blood yet."

"If so, you'll have to do it as ashes, because that's what
you'll soon be. Maybe you'll find a nice piece of ash to
bite. Maybe I'll bury your ashes in a hole, making you an
ash hole." The man laughed at his wit, which was just as
well, because the vampire didn't find it very funny.

However, the husband should have taken the threat more
seriously, because the vampire really was immortal in his
fashion. As he burned to ashes, each ash became a mos-
quito. The mosquito knew only one thing, and that was to
suck blood. Like cri-tics, they swarmed all over anything
that lived, and sucked. The husband was their very first
victim, but for some reason he didn't feel honored. He fled,
swatting himself unmercifully.

"And ever since then, the vampire mosquitoes have
plagued Xanth," the Pawpaw Wizard concluded. "And
Mundania too, where it seems as if they have been forever,
but that's only because of the itching. But that is of little
concern to you. The point is that the vampire didn't die
until shortly btefore the Reverse Magician did, and he lived
in the same general region. In fact, they were friends of a

YON ILL WIND   303

sort. The one did not try to suck the blood of the other,
and the other did not reverse the one into a blood-spitting
image. So if you go there and then, you are bound to
encounter him. And you probably wouldn't care to."

Chlorine shuddered. "Thank you for the warning. We
shall do our best to avoid the vampire. At least we won't
have to worry about mosquitoes."

"And some believe that the story thread Joshua lost may
be in the possession of the vampire."

Chlorine looked at Nimby, evidently hoping for a ne-
gation, but Nimby nodded. "Oh, no," she groaned.

Now Tweeter understood why Nimby had not felt this
would be an easy mission. But they had no choice; they
had to go after that thread.

So they moved on, after thanking the Pawpaw Wizard
for. the information and the sandwiches. Nimby knew
where to find the forces of nature, who, as fortune would
have it, were not far distant.

They came to a region of ashes. Chlorine looked around
in alarm, but Nimby was unconcerned, so she relaxed. In
its center was a burning circle, and in the circle stood an
attractive young or seemingly young woman whose long
hair was the color of flame and whose short skirt was the
color of smoke. She was evidently enjoying herself, doing
a dance, her bare feet unhurt by the hot coals.

Chlorine read Nimby's note. " 'Fira, force of fire, we
are on a mission to save Xanth from destruction. Will you
give us a pass to travel two hundred years into the past?' "

Fira paused, and her fire and smoke paused with her.
She eyed Chlorine as if resenting her beauty. "What's in
it for me?" she demanded.

"If Xanth gets blown away, there will be nothing left
to bum," Chlorine explained. "Your flames will expire
for lack of fuel."

"Um," Fira said, impressed. "Very well, I will give
you a quarter pass. But you may not find my sisters so
amendable." She extended a flaming fragment of paper.
Chlorine hesitated to take it, as did Tweeter, but Nimby

304   PIERS ANTHONY     •

took it in his hand. The fire died down, though the paper
continued to glow.

"Thank you," Chlorine said. "We are burning with

gratitude."

They hurried on. Soon they came to a small lake. In the
center of it stood a woman whose gown and headdress
flowed liquidly across her frame, which seemed to be as
completely supple as water.

Chlorine read another note. " 'Mareen, lady of water,
will you help us to save Xanth from dehydration?' "

It was clear that a key word had been uttered. "Please
don't utter blasphemy in my presence," Mareen said.

"I apologize," Chlorine said quickly. "I meant that
Xanth faces a severe loss of water, and will be all washed
up, if we don't go to the past to—"

"Of course I'll help you," Mareen said. "Here is a
quarter pass." She produced a blue square of water, which
turned out to be an aqua-colored card when Chlorine took

it.

"Thank you so much. We are overflowing with grati-
tude."

They went on until they came to a gray rock statue of
a woman in a plant green robe decorated with red straw-
berries. She carried a cornucopia from which a wheat-
shrouded pumpkin was about to emerge, and her other
hand was extended with a handful of seeds.

" 'Alanda, lady of land, will you help us to save the
Land of Xanth from being utterly despoiled?' '' Chlorine
read from Nimby's note. Tweeter was coming to appre--
ciate the finesse of language employed.

The statue came to life. "How's that again?" Alanda
asked sharply.

"Xanth will be blown into nothing but windblown
mounds of garbage, hardly better than the spoils of war
that harpies so love, if we don't travel to the past to—"

"Here is a quarter pass," Alanda said, presenting a cob
of corn she culled from the cornucopia. The cob became
yellow paper as Chlorine accepted it.

YON ILL WIND   305

"Thank you most copiously," Chlorine said.

They continued, until they came to a windy glade. Here
there floated a woman with waist-length windblown hair
and a long windblown cape, and a big hawk on her arm.
Tweeter was somewhat wary of the hawk, but Nimby did
not seem concerned. Indeed, Nimby indicated that Tweeter
should address the bird.

Tweeter gulped and made his best effort. ' 'Oh mighty
hawk," he said in bird talk, "will your companion Win-
dona hear our plea?"

"Get to the point, hummingbird," the hawk snapped.

Tweeter decided to ignore the slight, as it was probably
deliberate. "Hurricane Happy Bottom is going to blow
Xanth away, if we don't stop her by fetching a story thread
from the past. So we need a pass to—"

"Why should we care about that?" the hawk asked.
"We are creatures of wind."

Tweeter thought fast. "If the storm blows away all the
trees, there will be no place for nests, and no prey species
left. And Happy Bottom will be the most powerful entity
of air, blowing Windona into has-been status. She—"

"Here is your pass," Windona said abruptly. Tweeter
was startled; he hadn't realized that she understood bird
talk.

"Thank you most breezily," Tweeter said, taking the
pass in his beak. It resembled a feather, becoming feathery
paper.

They continued on until they came to a private glade.
There was a table in the center. It turned out to be made
entirely of salt. "Table salt," Chlorine said, pleased. "Just
what we need." She spread out the cards they had received
from the four forces of nature.

Then they assembled the four passes. One was a quarter
pass one, and the next was a quarter pass two, and quarter
pass three, and quarter pass four. Together they formed a
complete license to go against nature one time.

Chlorine filled in the time Nimby indicated: Apull 19,
900. Then she sat on Nimby dragon, and Tweeter perched

306   PIERS ANTHONY

on her hair, and she invoked the crime against nature. "Let
us pass to the past," she said.

Suddenly they were in a different glade, or maybe the
same one a hundred and ninety-six years before, clothed
by different trees. They would have four quarters of an
hour to complete their mission before the past passed and
they reverted to the present, ready or not.

"And I hope we don't encounter the vampire," Chlo-
rine said with another shudder. Tweeter agreed. "Maybe
we can find the thread in his lair while he's out sucking
up elsewhere."

Nimby wrote a note. Chlorine read it, and paled. "He
wears the thread," she said. "He has a balky button on
his cape, and the thread reverses the button's nature and
makes it amenable. So it's always with him. How can we
possibly get that thread without getting sucked?"

Nimby looked at Tweeter. Oh, no! Tweeter felt his stiff
little legs turn to jelly. He should have known that he
hadn't been invited along just for the ride.

But there was more. Nimby was writing again. Chlorine
read the new note. " 'I can take you to the Vampire Ge-
stalt. But it will not be easy to take the thread, because he
values it.' " Chlorine looked up, causing Tweeter to adjust
his perch on her hair. "I can fix that, I think; I can stand
before the vampire, and stun him by showing him my pant-
ies—" She paused, seeing Nimby's head shake. She
looked back down at the note she hadn't finished reading.
Tweeter readjusted. "Oh. 'Panties don't freak out vam-
pires. Only lush, pulsing, sanguine necks.' " She looked
up again, and Tweeter rode with it. "Well, then, I'll bare
my lush pulsing sanguine neck, and—" Another shake
made her look back at the note. "Oh. 'We're not allowed
to hurt the vampire, because that would change Xanth his-
tory in unpredictable ways. He must meet his destined fate
as described.' " She looked up, and Tweeter shifted again.
"But that means that Xanth will be plagued by hungry
mosquitoes! Can't we eliminate them?" Another shake
sent her back to the note. " 'A number of special creatures

YON ILL WIND   307

came to prey on those mosquitoes, such as a fine type of
netting, and several repellents—' " She looked up. "I met
a repellent once. It was a disgusting creature. But I suppose
nets are useful." She resumed reading. " 'And their elim-
ination would mess up Xanth in other unpredictable ways.
It might even interfere with the story line we are in, elim-
inating us as characters.' " She gulped and looked up
again. Tweeter was beginning to feel motion sick. "Sud-
denly I see the point !,This is all in the past, so any change
can affect us. And we don't want that, because we might
cause ourselves never to exist, and our great adventure
would be erased before it started. So what must we do?"
She looked back at the note. " 'We must try to get the
thread without Gestalt noticing.' " She looked up once
more. Tweeter hoped that was the last one. "And that's it.
We can't hurt him, or make too much of a fuss, lest we
imperil our own very existence. This scares me."

Tweeter agreed emphatically. He wasn't a creature of
Xanth, but he was affected by Xanth, because what would
happen if the Baldwin family blundered into it, and there
was no Chlorine to help them get through it? No Nimby
to know the spot answers? They could be in much worse
trouble, and Xanth itself might be doomed without then-
help. He had never seen Nimby nervous before; now he
understood how justified the dragon's attitude was.

And he. Tweeter, had somehow to get that thread. With-
out doing any harm. Or getting caught. So he could help
save Xanth from the resurgent -ill wind. It seemed to be
altogether too tall an order for one little bird.

He realized that Chlorine and Nimby were looking at
him. Well, Nimby was; the woman's eyes were trying to
see him, but he remained perched on top of her head, so
her gaze was missing him by about a wingspan. But she
was trying. They wanted to know his reaction.
What else was there to do? "Cheep!" he said boldly.
"Well, I'm glad you have confidence," Chlorine said.
"You're the one who needs it most."

308   PIERS ANTHONY

For sure. Tweeter tried to control his unconfident shiv-
ering.

"But I'll help all I can," she continued. "Maybe I will
show him my panties, because that should distract him
somewhat without actually freaking him out—which is
what we want. But I'm not going to let him near my tender
neck."

Tweeter appreciated that.

"So I guess we'd better go find the vampire," Chlorine
said halfway briskly. "And I guess we'd better play dam-
sel and dragon, so as to be as distracting as possible. While
Tweeter goes after the thread."

Nimby assumed his dragon form, and Chlorine got on
him. Nimby knew exactly where to go, as always, so in
only a moment and an instant, or perhaps two instants and
a trace, they arrived at the lair of the dread vampire.

Tweeter was halfway disappointed. It wasn't a big
spooky old ancient castle, but merely a hut formed of
bloodroot roots, all tangly and red, with a thatch of blood-
root leaves. The sagging door was closed. The hut was in
deep shade, because vampires weren't especially keen on

sunshine.

"He must be asleep," Chlorine said. "I understand they
sleep a lot in the daytime." Nimby nodded his donkey
head. "So I'll just call him out," she decided.

She paused, as if hoping someone would tell her no, but
no one did. So she adjusted her blouse and skirt to show
just so much and no more, while Tweeter flew to a nearby
tree, hoping to be able to approach the vampire from be-
hind.

"But I wonder whether you couldn't just fly in and get
it while he's asleep," she said, suffering a moderate after-
thought.

But Nimby shook his head no.

So Chlorine completed her adjustments, which really -
weren't necessary, as she was equally lovely regardless,
and lifted her chin and her voice. "Oo-oo, Vampire Ge-

YON ILL WIND   309

stalt," she called without a lot of volume. "Are you in
there?"

In a moment the door opened, and a dark figure ap-
peared. ' 'Who calls me?'' it inquired in a sinister tone or
two.

Now Tweeter saw why the sleep approach wouldn't
have worked: the cloak was just unkinking from a tight
wrap, and the button on the side was just coming into
sight. It would have been inaccessible while the vampire
slept. Probably he slept in a closed coffin box anyway,
making the chore even more difficult. So it had to be while
he was up, and preferably outside, for a more ready escape.

"I called you," Chlorine said in a somewhat quavery
voice. ' 'I understand you—you like succulent young maid-
ens."

The dark vampire brightened. ' 'Indeed I do. Come into
my den, succulent damsel, and we shall share a rare
delight."

Tweeter moved closer. The button was now fully ex-
posed, and he could see a strand of thread behind it. There
was his target!

"But I don't like dingy interiors," Chlorine said. "I
prefer the bright outdoors." She moved in her saddle, so
that her skirt sort of accidentally fell askew, revealing a
well-fleshed thigh.

"But the delights I offer are best savored in shadow,"
the vampire said. His eyes seemed to play about her neck-
line more than her skirtline.

"Well, maybe if we meet halfway," she suggested, ad-
justing herself again. This time her blouse got accidentally
disarrayed, so that some of her fair white column of a neck
showed.

"Maybe so," the vampire said, licking his thin lips
thirstily. He walked out toward them—and coincidentally
past Tweeter's hiding place.

Tweeter nerved himself with what little nerve he had—
he was a small bird, so it wasn't much—and flew around
and behind the figure, coming in on the button. He landed

310   PIERS ANTHONY

on it, snatching for the thread with his beak.

Unfortunately, the thread did not give way. The vampire
felt the tug. "What's this?" he demanded, glancing down.

"This is a tender panty!" Chlorine cried, snatching up
her skirt to show it. Then, remembering, she reversed
course and snatched open the front of her blouse to reveal
her pulsing neck, and somewhat more. "I mean a silken
bos—uh, neck!" Old habits died hard.

But she was too late. The flash of silken panty hadn't
stunned the vampire, just as Nimby had warned it
wouldn't, and by the time her tender neck showed, the
vampire's gaze had departed her body.

His hand was no slower. It dropped down and closed
about Tweeter. "We have an avian creature," he ex-
claimed, surprised. "Someone is giving me the bird."

"Pay no attention to that bird," Chlorine cried desper-
ately. "He doesn't have more than a drop of blood, while
I have half a slew, uh, wash, uh, jug!" She ripped open
the rest of her blouse, showing her entire delectable front,
which indeed had not one but two ample jugs.

But the Vampire Gestalt, canny in his fashion, would
not be distracted. "All in good time," he told Chlorine
without looking. "What were you after, bird? My button?
Are you a button hooker?" He held Tweeter up before his

face, helpless.

"No he's not!" Chlorine screamed. "He's just a stupid
little bird, while I'm a delectable heaving-bosomed maiden
girl damsel with a stunning pair of pan—uh, breas—uh, I
mean, soft tender neck!"

But all her valiant efforts were for naught. "I think you
are up to something, bird," the vampire said. "Things al-
ways occur as aspects of wholes, and I don't understand
your part or your whole."

"Stop talking dirty!" Chlorine cried. But it was a fading
ploy. The vampire ignored her, turned around, and swept

back into his hut.

Inside, he closed the dismal door, checked the dirty win-
dows, and let Tweeter go. "You can't escape this horren-

YON ILL WIND   311

dous hovel, bird, so you might as well confess," Gestalt
said. "What were you really after, and why?"

Tweeter thought fast. Maybe he had half a chance, if he
used his little noggin well. Should he tell the truth? No,
because the vampire wouldn't believe it. Nobody would
believe that a stupid little bird came from the future, on a
mission to save Xanth from destruction. But what else was
there?

"Did someone send you?" Gestalt demanded. "Under-
stand, bird, I really don't care much about you; as the
damsel says, you have only a drop of blood in you, while
she is relatively luscious. But I like to understand the big
picture. Tell me, and I'll let you go."

Tell him what? That they had to have his reverse thread,
to fashion a new story line before the old one broke? He
wouldn't believe that either. None of this was really be-
lievable.

"Come, come, bird," Gestalt said impatiently. "I don't
have all day. My last several victims have escaped, and
I'm really pretty hungry. If that luscious damsel is gone
by the time I settle with you, I shall be most displeased."
He stretched his mouth, showing his fangs.

Then a little light flashed over Tweeter's little head. It
was only a faint light, not at all matching the lights that
flashed over Chlorine's head when she got good ideas, but
it did illuminate his little mind. Suddenly he knew what
to tell Gestalt.

"Ah, I see you have decided to cooperate," the vampire
said. "Then let's get on with it. One nod for yes, two for
no, three for further definition. Agreed?"

Tweeter nodded once. Gestalt did seem to grasp the
whole of things readily.

"You came for something?"

Nod: yes.

"The button?"

Nod nod: no.

"Surely not my cloak!"

Yes—no.

312   PIERS ANTHONY

Gestalt understood. "Bad phrasing. But what else
could—the thread?"

Yes.

"But this is a very special thread. It reverses—"

Yes.

"Ah, so you know its qualities. I need this thread to
hold my recalcitrant button."

Nod nod nod.

"There's more? How could you persuade me to part
with this magic thread?"

Nod nod nod.

Gestalt smiled. "True. I need to get specific. Can you
honestly say I would benefit from—"

Yes.

"Yes? Parting with this thread would do me good?"

Yes.

Gestalt stroked a fang. "This intrigues me. It would do
me good with my cloak?" He saw Tweeter's negation.
"My house? No. My sleep? No. My food? Yes." Then
the vampire did a double take, or at least a one and a half
take. "Are you telling me that this thread interferes with
my feeding?"

Yes.

Gestalt stroked his other fang. "Let me see whether I
can figure your rationale. This thread was made by Joshua,
the famed Reverse Magician, with whom I share a reason-
able portion of a friendship. It reverses things. It reverses
the contrary nature of my button. Are you saying it does
not stop there?"

Yes.

"So what else would it reverse? My fortunes? My—•"
Then a big bulb flashed over his head. "My prey! When
I get close, it reverses the nature of my victims, and they
become unamenable. Instead of being lulled by my aura,
so that I can sip of their blood without their resistance,
they become alarmed, and flee. Since all they have to do
is step into the sunshine, I am unable to pursue them far.

YON ILL WIND   313

And so my fortune is changed—by the presence of this
reverse thread."

Yes. He had fathomed it with marvelous precision, once
given the clue. That was exactly the thought that Tweeter's
little bulb had illuminated.

The Vampire Gestalt smiled. "We made a deal, and you
have delivered. You have shown me why I do not want to
retain this thread. You need it, I do not. Accordingly I will
give it to you and let you go, on one condition."

Nod nod nod?

"That you take it so far away that it will never be near
me again. Agreed?"-
Yes!

The vampire unwound the thread, releasing the button,
which promptly became balky again. He extended the
thread to Tweeter. Tweeter took it in his beak. It gave him
a funny feeling. He spread his wings and tried to fly, but
just sank down against the table.

"It is reversing you, now," Gestalt said. "I think you
will have to walk out of here, rather than fly." He opened
the door. "I trust you can make it on the ground."

Tweeter tried to nod, but shook his head instead. He
walked unsteadily out the door.

Nimby was there, with Chlorine. The dragon extended
the tip of his tail, and Tweeter climbed up on it. Then
without giving him a chance to scramble up to Chlorine,
Nimby trundled rapidly away from the hut.

"Wait!" the vampire cried. "I have business with the
succulent damsel!"

"Not anymore," Chlorine cried back. "I showed you
my almost everything, but you spumed me. I'll take my

pan—bos—jug—my whatever elsewhere, thank you all
the same."

"Ah, well," Gestalt said philosophically. "I should
have no trouble, now, finding a replacement." He headed
purposefully in the other direction.

Another little bulb flashed over Tweeter's head. He re-
alized why Nimby was not letting him approach Chlorine.

314   PIERS ANTHONY

He had the reverse thread, and it was reversing him to a
degree; if he took it to Chlorine, it would mess her up too.
So he had to stay here far from the main action, to carry
the thread without doing any damage to the others. Well,
that was what he would do. He had succeeded in his mis-
sion. Now all Nimby had to do was get them back in time.
Or forward in time, before their time ran out.

16
DEMON

The Demon X(A/N)th was half-satisfied. He had en-
abled Chlorine and Tweeter to fetch back the re-
verse story thread, which had taken effect the
moment it reached the present time. Now Sending's ploy
had been reversed, and the story was back to normal.
Happy Bottom was confined in the Region of Air, and
Hurricane Fracto was romancing her, or taming the shrew,
as Jim Baldwin put it in his Mundanish way. Xanth had
been saved from one threat.

But the other threat remained. If Chlorine did not shed
one tear of love or grief for Nimby, the bet would be lost,
and then X(A/N)"1 would be demoted to the least of De-
mons, and the Land of Xanth would be forfeited. That
meant it would probably be destroyed. That would be too
bad, because X(A/N)11' had recently come to know this land
well, and it had grown on him. He had largely ignored it
for millennia, but he would do so no longer. Becoming a
character within it had entirely changed his outlook.

"What are you thinking of. Nimby?" Chlorine inquired
brightly, interrupting his reverie. What a delight she had
turned out to be! But she would not shed her last tear for

YON ILL WIND   315

him, because then she would be blind. That was the ulti-
mate cost of his inattention that had allowed him to choose
the wrong companion: defeat.

Of course, he couldn't answer her, but he twitched an
ear in acknowledgement. That satisfied her; she patted his
hide and rode on. He liked it when she did that, which
was a signal of how his attitude had modified.

Now they were nearing Castle Roogna for the big cel-
ebration of victory over the 111 Wind. Everyone was to be
there—everyone who cared to be. Including Chlorine and
her silent companion Nimby.

They came to the Mundane RV, or moving house. The
child Karen spied them first and dashed out. "Hi, Chlo-
rine! Hi, Nimby!" She threw her arms around his donkey
head and kissed him on the striped pink and green snout.
He liked that, too. "Glad you could make it!" She dashed
back in to notify the others.

"That little girl belongs in Xanth," Chlorine remarked,
dismounting. "With her own dragon."

True. Karen had not yet properly learned the arts of
dissembling; her actions mirrored her thoughts. She liked
Xanth, and she liked Nimby, not caring half a whit how
odd he looked. Her greeting had been sincere. Which was
why he appreciated it.

The others came out. "Glad to see you again. Nimby,"
Jim Baldwin said. "We'll be going tomorrow, but we
wanted you to know that we couldn't have done it without
you." Of course, he knew that Nimby already knew that,
but his Mundane protocol required him to make a formal
statement. That, too, he liked.

Mary approached. "But perhaps it would be better if
you attended the festivities in your human form," she mur-
mured.

"Yes," Chlorine agreed immediately. "In formal cloth-
ing, too. And I hope you know how to dance."

Of course he could dance; be had learned that in the
course of his survey of the land and people and things of
Xanth. So he changed to human form, in a royal robe.

316   PIERS ANTHONY

Sean and Willow emerged. They were somber; they had
not resolved their impasse. They were in love, and could
not bear to be separated, but they were of different realms,
neither suited for the other realm. In Sean's mind was a
notion of separating from his family to remain in Xanth,
but he was held back by the knowledge that this would so
greatly hurt the other members of the family as to mire
him in perpetual guilt. In Willow's mind was the thought
of going with him to Mundania, where she thought she
would die, but at least she would have a little more time
with him. But she realized that this would be worse for
Sean than separation. So she would bravely bid him fare-
well, and when he was gone she would do what she should
have done at the outset, and fly to Mount Rushmost were
they had reunited, tie her wings together so she could not
fly, and throw herself off the precipice. Then she would
be at peace, and Sean would never know, so would suffer
no additional grief.

Nimby knew these things, but could not speak them and
did not care to write them. He also knew that good news
was on the way for them. So that affair would have a
happy ending, and perhaps that was best. Just as it was
best that all the folk of Xanth be happy this day, not know-
ing ...

"Very well," Chlorine said, not knowing the nature or
velocity of his thoughts. ' 'Put me in a lovely party gown
and hairdo for the party."

"Gee, are you going to change right out here?" David
asked, his twelve-year-old pupils dilating. The presence of
Chlorine accelerated his race toward maturity, especially
since Big Brother Sean had lost interest.

"Right out here," Chlorine agreed, smiling. Suddenly
her complete outfit shifted, as Nimby changed her accord-
ing to her wish, in somewhat less than an eye-blink. Nat-
urally David had blinked in that moment, so saw none of
what he had hoped to.

"Aww," the boy said, disappointed.

Chlorine turned to Nimby. "You know, he's Mun-

YON ILL WIND   317

dane," she murmured low. "Would it be too great a vio-
lation if he caught half a glimpse, considering the spirit of
the occasion?" Her mind made clear the nature of her
request. She knew that she would not have this beautiful
body much longer, because the adventure was almost over,
and she wanted to leave a lasting impression on someone
without actually being tried for Violation of the Adult
Conspiracy. She also wanted to give the boy a treat, and
she did not hold the Conspiracy in as much awe as was
proper, because of her background as a woman nobody
much looked at anyway.

So Nimby removed her dress for one full blink, at a
time when only David happened to be looking, so that she
stood in eyeball-numbing yellow-green bra and panties.
Then he restored the outfit, as if it had never lapsed; there
was no evidence and no other witness, so there would be
no case even if someone suspected.

David's brown eyes turned yellow-green and his jaw
dropped. Brief as it was, it had still been too much of a
dose; he was stunned, and about to fall. But Nimby caught
one arm, and Chlorine the other. "Promise not to tell,"
she whispered in the boy's ear.

David nodded numbly. He would recover, because he
was Mundane and not quite of age for the full effect to
register. But it was a close call. Mundanes, it turned out,
weren't all that different from Xanthians. As it was, the
boy would start pursuing girls a full year earlier than he

would have otherwise; the secret glimpse had advanced his
thyme-table that far.

"David! Are you all right?" Mary inquired, with a

mother's instant awareness of any passing indisposition in
her child.

David's mouth worked. "Jus—just great," he said,
awed.

Mary glanced somewhat suspiciously at Chlorine's low
and curvaceous decolletage. "Go with your sister," she
said. She suspected that the boy had seen a bit too much,

318   PIERS ANTHONY

so was moving him away from it. Fortunately she sus-
pected only about a quarter of the reality.

They walked as a group toward Castle Roogna. But Da-
vid, still glazed, stumbled. Mary caught him and looked in
his face. "Your eyes!" she exclaimed. "They're green!"
Now she suspected half the reality. But being Mundane,
she had an abiding disbelief of magic, so couldn't bring
herself to suspect the whole of it. That was just as well.
The boy's eyes had been stained permanently green by
what he had seen.

Castle Roogna came into view, gloriously magical. And
there, coming out to greet them, was a lovely princess they
didn't recognize. "Who is that creature?" Jim inquired.

Then Karen spied a freckle. "That's Princess Electra!"
she squealed. "Looking princessly!"

She was correct. Nimby had known, of course, but
hadn't been asked. Normally Electra ran around in blue
jeans, but on formal occasions she suppressed her nature
and played her royal role. Clothes made all the difference.

Karen ran up to the princess. "How can you stand being
so regal?'' she demanded.

Electra made a careful royal moue. "It isn't easy," she
confessed. "But somebody has to do it. After the official
greetings are over, let's get together with Jenny Elf and
sneak away to pig out on chocolate pie. We can wear—"
she glanced around to be sure no one else was in earshot
"—shorts and tank tops."

"Ooooo!" Karen squealed, delighted. "It's a date."

Then Electra put her royal face back on and turned to
the others. "So nice to meet you again, good people. But
I believe I have not met one of your number before."

"This is Willow Elf," Sean said quickly. "Her winged
elm tree is very large."

"So I see," Electra said. "So nice to meet you. Willow
Elf." She extended her hand in princessly manner.'

Willow bowed, and her wings quivered. "Thank you,
Princess."

"And how did you come to join this party?" Electra

YON ILL WIND   319

inquired. "I had understood that the winged elves seldom
associate with ground-bound folk."

"Sean and I washed in a love spring, before we real-
ized," Willow explained.

"Oh, I understand!" Electra said with instant sympathy.
"When Prince Dolph kissed me awake, after my several
centuries of sleep, the magic made me love him instantly.
But he didn't love me. At least you were together."

"But didn't he marry you?" Willow asked.

"Oh yes, eventually. But at first he was more interested
in Princess Nada Naga."

"How could any man not be most interested in you?"
Willow asked, amazed.

"When you see Nada, you will understand." Electra
paused. "Oh, there are the winged centaurs arriving.
Come, Willow, I must introduce you to them; I'm sure
you'll like them." Then, remembering her royal duties, she
paused again. "But first I must conduct all of you to the
castle in style." Yet it was evident that she wanted to greet
the centaurs first.

Mary was the one to find a way to alleviate the problem.
"We'll be glad to wait until the centaurs can join us, Prin-
cess. Then we can all enter together."

"Oh, thank you! Come, Willow!" The princess hurried
toward the field where the centaurs were landing, and Wil-
low went with her.

Sean remained behind. "I think they have girl things to
discuss," he said. He was right; Electra wanted to compare
notes on magic love, having met another woman who had
encountered it.

The Baldwins and Chlorine waited while Electra and
Willow met the centaurs and exchanged more introduc-
tions. Then that group returned to join the family. There
were four centaurs: Che, Cynthia, Chena, and Crystal. The
family had met them before, of course; indeed, Chena and
Crystal had helped significantly in the effort to herd Happy
Bottom north. It was a nice reunion.

But there was a nicer one coming. As the princess was

320   PIERS ANTHONY

about to conduct them all to the castle. Nimby nudged
Chorine and gave her a note. Her eyes widened. Then she
spoke. "Princess, could we wait just a bit more? Nimby
says other centaurs are coming."

Electra looked blank. "More centaurs?"

"The Good Magician invited them."

The princess nodded. "Then we had better wait for
them. But I hadn't realized that any more centaurs had
participated in the 111 Wind venture."

Now they heard the beat of galloping hooves. "Two
ground-bound centaurs," Che said. He could tell by the
sound. "They don't normally care. to associate with our
kind."

"They certainly don't," Chena agreed. "Are you
sure—?"

Then the two came into view: a male and a female.

Chena screatned. "Carieton!" She galloped out to meet
them.

"Her brother," Jim said, remembering. "We promised
to relay his greeting to her, and we did."

"And Sheila," Sean said. "I'd recognize that bosom
anywhere." Then, conscious of Willow beside him, he
added: "Not that I care."

"I'm not jealous," Willow said. "I could show you
something similar, if I dared." She meant that it was not
safe to risk an exposure that might cause them both to
forget the danger of summoning a stork, since they could
not be a family. Her words were also an invitation of a
sort, because she expected to be dead long before any stork
found her, so she might as well do it—if he agreed.

"You already did, in the love spring," he reminded her.
"I almost wish we had—" Then he remembered that they
were in the company of his family, and stifled it. But Jim
and Mary were already exchanging a knowing glance,
They well understood the invitation and the tentative ac-
ceptance. Indeed, Jim was inclined to give them leave, and
Mary was weakening. It was evident that the love of the

YON ILL WIND   321

two young folk was complete, but that they would have to
separate soon.

Meanwhile Chena Centaur collided with her brother,
hugging him. "I thought I'd never see you again!" she
cried through her tears of joy.

"I had a similar concern," he admitted. "I feared for
your safety on the brutish mainland." He drew back a
little. "But you seem to have changed."

"I have joined a new species," she said. "I am now a
winged monster." She spread her wings.

"So I see. I suppose it is for the best, if you are satis-
fied."

"Yes I am. Except for one thing. Two things."
"One? Two?"

"I miss my family. And I would like to find some
winged stallions. Do you suppose that any on Centaur

Isle—?"

He smiled. "I suppose it is time to confess. I found
myself dissatisfied with things on Centaur Isle, and thought
that if you had found a suitable situation, I might join your
group. In fact, I know of some others who also might wish
to join, if it were clear that they would be welcome."

"Ooooo!" Chena cried, just like a human maiden. She
hugged him again, then turned to Crystal. "Would you

welcome a new stallion from Centaur Isle, if he put on

wings?"

"We are among human folk," Crystal said. "Therefore
the Adult Conspiracy prevents me from answering in de- .

tail. But I think a very general affirmative would be in
order."

Carieton glanced at her. "You have not been a centaur
long, I suspect," he remarked. "You are speaking as you
think a centaur would speak."

Crystal blushed. "Is it so obvious? I'm trying so hard."
"I think a centaur stallion would be glad to exchange

elocution instruction for flying instruction."
While this dialogue was occurring, Sheila Centaur was

renewing her acquaintance with the family and Chlorine,

322   PIERS ANTHONY

and David was staring at her front. "Why, David," Sheila
remarked, "your eyes are green." Centaurs were obser-
vant, and had good memories as well as good mammaries.

"Yeah," he said. It didn't occur to him to wonder why
a glimpse of a green bra should stain his eyes, while a
complete look at a fine bare bosom merely made his eyes
dilate. This was, of course, the magic of certain garments:

"How come you came here?" Karen asked. "I mean
you helped us on our way, and we're glad, but do you
really care about mainland Xanth?"

Sheila looked as if she was possibly pondering the mer-
est hint of a blush, which would have been very unusual
for a normal centaur. "It is true that my main interest is
in Centaur Isle. But Carleton wished to see his sister again,
and I was indisposed to allow him to travel that far alone."

"I get it!" Karen cried with juvenile lack of circum-
spection. "You're sweet on Carleton!"
"Karen!" Mary cautioned.

' 'While that is not the way I would have chosen to ex-
press it, the sentiment is accurate," Sheila confessed.
"Where he goes, I go." There was a slight stress on the
words, because she had a notion where Carleton was go-
ing.

They got organized and started for the castle again. But
there was another arrival. It was a young woman with tan-
gled hair, and a small dog.

Immediately Woofer and Midrange took note, and went
out to meet the newcomers. Tweeter, perched on Karen's
hair, chirped. That alerted the girl. "Snarl—and his lost
mistress!" she cried, running after the pets.

So it was.*Snarl had received an invitation to the party,
because he had helped the 111 Wind effort, and he had
brought Ursa along too, not wishing to separate from his
mistress again. The girl seemed a bit baffled by it all, but
Karen quickly filled her in while cuddling Snarl. There was
another round of introductions.

They started in again—but were paused by still another
arrival. No one recognized the four women striding pur-

YON ILL WIND   323

posefully toward them until Tweeter cheeped again. Then
Chlorine, who had been talking with the centaurs, looked.
"The four forces of nature!" she exclaimed. "Everyone's
here!"

There were more introductions, this time made by Chlo-
rine. "Fira—the force of fire," she said of the fiery
woman. ' 'Mareen—the force of water. Alanda—the force
of land. And Windona—the force of, air. They helped us
go to find the reverse story thread." The four women nod-
ded graciously. Fortunately Chlorine did not clarify that
the women had enabled them to travel back in time.

Now at last they all went to the castle. Souffle Serpent
was in the moat, standing tali, with a little black bow tie
on his neck to show that he was part of the resident staff.

They crossed the drawbridge, which was gaily deco-
rated, and entered the castle proper. There, in a gown that
made Mary wince, was Princess Nada Naga. And suddenly
Willow understood why Prince Dolph had been distracted
from Princess Electra, in the early days of their relation-
ship.

But there were also the Demoness Mentia, and Trenita
Imp, and Princess Ivy, and many others, and any concerns
about who might catch on to what were lost in the welter
of additional introductions and remembrances.

Then Jenny Elf and another woman approached Willow.
"Hello, Sean," Jenny said. "This is Wira, the Good Ma-
gician's daughter-in-law. She must talk with Willow."

"Wira?" Sean asked. "But isn't she—" He caught
himself.

"Blind," Wira finished for him. "That is why Jenny is

guiding me, here in this less familiar castle."
"I am Willow," Willow said, approaching her.
Wira smiled. "Magician Humfrey asked me to give you

this." She held out a card.

"Thank you," Willow said. "But what is it?"
"It is a pass to Xanth. Present it at the station on No

Name Key in Mundania and you and your companions will

be admitted."

324   PIERS ANTHONY

"But I can't go to Mundania," Willow protested. "I
would die!"

"The Good Magician says that isn't true. But you would
lose your wings and become a human maiden while there.
Your problem is not in leaving Xanth, but in returning.
Keep this pass with you always."

Willow's eyes widened. "You mean I can go with
Sean? And have my wings when I return? And he can
come back with me?''

"Please don't speak so loudly," Wira cautioned. "The
Good Magician would not like to have it widely known
that he ever did a favor without charge. But considering
your service in helping to save Xanth from the 111 Wind,
he felt it was warranted."

"Oh!" Willow cried, on the verge of fainting from joy
and relief. "Tell him thank you! Thank you! Thank—"
But Wira was gone.

"We can be together," Sean breathed. "I'm sure Dad
will let you travel to Miami with us."

"But what of your mother?"

"She will be silent. That's her way of agreeing without
actually saying yes to an arrangement some might consider
untoward."

"Untoward?"

"You and me sharing a room."

"Sharing—?"

"In my generation, it's acceptable for engaged couples
to share residence."

"Engaged?" Willow was staring at the pass, still getting
her new bearings.

"Willow, will you marry me?"

Suddenly her bearings were gotten. "Yes!" She hugged
him and kissed him, and little hearts floated out.

"Oh, look!" Karen cried, spying a heart as it floated by
her nose. "Little hearts! They're engaged!"

Then everyone looked, and there was applause.

Nimby was glad the Good Magician had not come in
person, because he would have had some hard questions

YON ILL WIND   325

for Nimby. It was not easy to keep the truth from Humfrey,
who was the Magician of Information. Obviously the Good
Magician knew that Nimby had asked Willow to help herd
Happy Bottom north. But, as obviously, he had not fath-
omed Nimby's full nature. Yet.

The party began, and everyone had an excellent time.
Nimby danced with Chlorine, and it was wonderful. She
had not been an expert dancer, but he quietly made her so,
knowing it was her wish. Then she danced with other
males, dazzling them, and he danced with other females.
Meanwhile Princess Electra, her royal duties done, re-
verted to blue jeans and then to (gasp!) shorts, and went
out with Jenny and the children to pig out on pies. If any-
one noticed, anyone had the sense to ignore this infraction
of protocol.

Willow's winged parents arrived from their flying elm
tree, and met Sean and his family. They did not seem com-
pletely thrilled about her betrothal to a land-bound Mun-
dane, but quickly saw that the situation was hopeless, as
Willow adamantly refused to take any love-nullifying po-
tion. They also grudgingly appreciated the fact that Sean's
family had helped save Xanth from destruction; that was
worth something. So they would live with it.

Somewhere amidst it all King Dor formally presented
Jim Baldwin with a Certificate of Thanks for the family's
volunteer effort to save Xanth from yon 111 Wind, now
confined to the Region of Air. "Without you and your
traveling house, and the special effort of all of your family
members and pets, we could not have done it," the King
concluded. "We owe you an enormous debt of gratitude,
and regret that we have no way to reward you that will be
effective in your homeland. But be assured you will be
welcome here at any time you choose to return."

"Return?" Jim asked blankly.

"When you use the pass Magician Humfrey gave Wil-
low," the King explained. "Any of you will be able to
accompany her and Sean when they visit. Your three pets
are included, of course."

326   PIERS ANTHONY

"Woof!" Woofer agreed.

"That's telling them, mutt!" the floor under him agreed.

Jim looked at his wife. "We might wish to visit," Mary
said cautiously.

"Yea!" Karen exclaimed.

In time the festivities wore out, and folk retired to their
rooms in the castle and temporary rooms set up around it.
Folk pretended not to notice how Sean and Willow shared
one of those rooms. "She's a good young woman," was
all Mary would say.

"He's a good young man," Willow's mother said with
similar reservation. The two women, one Mundane, the
other winged, exchanged a glance that transcended cul-
tures. That was enough.

In the morning the family and Willow piled into the RV
and headed for the trollway, waved on their way by a
King, a Queen, and a number of Princesses. The Demoness
Mentia went also, to make sure that they found a suitable
gas guzzler and suffered no other problems. They also had
the Mundane addresses of Dug and Kim, two others who
had visited Xanth and knew something about it. Some of
them would surely be visiting again.

Then Chlorine knew it was time for her to go home; her
big adventure—bigger than she had really expected—was
over. Her folks might be wondering where she was. So,
reluctantly, she bid farewell to the royalty and set off for
the backwoods, riding Nimby in dragon form.

When they got close. Chlorine had a notion. "I know
this is all about to end. Nimby," she said. "You promised
me one good adventure, and you certainly delivered it.
You have things of your own to do, and can't take forever
catering to my whims. But at least I'd like to show you to
my family, before you go away forever. Will that be all
right?"

Nimby nodded. It was all right because anything she
wanted was all right, by the terms of his situation. But far

YON ILL WIND   327

more hung on her decision than she realized—and he
could not tell her that.

"So okay, I'm taking my medicine and declaring this
wonderful adventure over," she said, and at that point she
reverted to her natural appearance and nature. "You are
free to do whatever you want, with my thanks. But if you
will be kind enough to wait here until I can bring my
family to see you, I'll really appreciate it. It's been great,
Nimby." Her reversion hadn't quite registered yet, so she
was still being nice. Then she turned and marched away
from him, not looking back because she was afraid she
would break down and ask for what she thought to be
impossible: a permanent life as a lovely, smart, healthy,
and nice woman.

And Nimby lost his power of motion and magic. All
that remained was his awareness of all things in Xanth,
but he could no longer affect them in any way. He had
been reduced to a donkey-headed hulk,, and would remain
so until he rotted away, unless Chlorine should shed her
tear for him. And why should she do that, knowing it
would blind her?

The Demon X(AN)'1' was depressed because he was
about to lose his wager, and with it his governance of the
Land of Xanth. 'Some other Demon would take it over, and
might change it or destroy it, because no other Demon
cared about it the way X(AN)th did. For he had indeed
come to care for it, very much. And therein lay another
irony, for he had also fallen in love with Chlorine.

Of course, he knew that the beautiful, smart, healthy,
nice edition was a creation of his magic. He had made her,
literally. But he had done it by her request, to her speci-
fications. She had become the woman she chose to be,
when she had the option. Therefore the seeds of it had
been within her; she had known her deficiencies, and acted
to eliminate them. Chlorine, as she had been the past few
days, was what she would be always, given the chance.
And it was Chlorine Ideal that he loved. She was just the
perfect woman. In all but one respect—the one she hadn't

328   PIERS ANTHONY

thought of. And that was the capacity to love. Her hard
life had washed that out along with her tears, until only a
vestige remained. And so she did not love him back. He
knew it, because he knew her mind as no other did. And
without that love, she would never shed a tear for anyone
other than herself.

X(AN)'1' himself had not known the meaning of love,
before this adventure. He had not cared about anyone or
anything except himself and his competitive ranking
among Demons. But in order to win Chlorine's love he
had had to learn about love, and in the course of that he
learned how.

It had not been easy or sudden, because Chlorine herself
did not truly understand it. She thought that love came
automatically with beauty and niceness. She was mistaken;

such things merely facilitated it. So she had practiced her
craft, impressing young males by displaying teasing por-
tions of her healthy body and clothing. She had teased
Nimby, too, and indeed she had been interesting, and he
would have liked to summon the stork with her. But storks
were not identical to love; they were more like fellow trav-
elers. There could be storks without love, and love without
storks. Chlorine had finally realized that distinction, and
broken off the effort, and in that decision had sown the
seed of what she lacked. She had realized that she was
coming to care for him enough to make playing unkind,
but she hadn't realized what she was actually searching
for.

It was the Mundane family Baldwin that had begun to
show him the immense potential depth and breadth of love.
The children's love for their pets, and Mary's love for the
children. Neither had anything to do with storks, but in
their subtle ways they were as significant. Any member of
that family was prepared to die to protect any other mem-
ber. Not all of them realized it, such as David, but it was
true. X(AN)'1' had studied that quiet underlying emotion,
laboring to understand it, and gradually had succeeded.
Mary had helped him most, by showing her concern for

YON ILL WIND   329

everyone, even for him, when he had come in soiled from
the meatier shower. She had treated him like a son, and
though he was infinitely older than she, he had appreciated
it. She had cared for him, and thereby shown him how to
care for her. It was a kind of commitment that required no
magic; it was just there, like water seeping silently through
ground. But it was the base on which the more dramatic
forms of love were laid.

Such as that between Sean and Willow. True, it had
been sponsored by a dip in a love spring. But neither
would have been affected as they were, if they had not
had solid family love first. They had understood the as-
pects of love, and were ready when suddenly it caught fire.
Otherwise the water would merely have caused them to
mate uncontrollably, summoning as many storks as they
could in a short time, and then to separate, the mood ex-
pended, in the manner of animals. Instead they had resisted
the mating urge for the sake of a larger commitment that
they were, ironically, unable to make. For the love they
wished to realize in its entirety.

It had taken XtAN)"' some time to analyze that, and to
emulate it to be sure that he did understand it. But that
turned out to be a door that, once opened, could not be
closed again. He loved Chlorine.

Now she had ended the adventure, without knowing its
significance. Unable to love herself, she had not appreci-
ated how a donkey-headed dragon could love her. It had
all been for fun, as she saw it, a glorious adventure of the
type Princesses were wont to have. Indeed, she had danced
with a Prince, and conversed with a King, and not made
a fool of herself. This was her notion of the ultimate. Now
it was over, and she was going home. And Nimby was
dying.

Perhaps it had been doomed from the start. From the
time he had allowed his attention to wander, and had ad-
dressed the wrong young woman. The one without tears.
But somehow he could not regret that now, because he
could not have loved the other woman more than he loved

330   PIERS ANTHONY

Chlorine. Though he lost the bet, and his status, and the
Land of Xanth, he had gained something infinitely pre-
cious in return: the knowledge and substance of love. Per-
haps it was worth it.

Yet how different it might have been. Had Chlorine pos-
sessed just a smidgen more awareness of the true nature
of love, she might then have asked for an enhanced ca-
pacity, and then she might have learned to love him. But
as it was, she merely liked him. And so his mission here
was doomed.

Had she been able to shed her last tear for him, he would
have won, and then what a great and wonderful surprise
he would have had for her! He would have made her all
that she had wanted to be, and so much more, more than
she had ever imagined. She could have become the God-
dess of Xanth, below only himself, because he could not
make her a Demon. All knowledge, all power, and all joy,
too, could have been hers. He would have assumed any
form she wanted, especially the handsome Nimby-man
one, and obliged her in any way she wished. He could
have given her any magic talent she wished, being no
longer limited by fear of discovery of his nature. But per-
haps most important of all, he would have given her his
love, and enabled her to love him in return, in the manner
of Sean and Willow. And in thanks for the way those two
had showed him how gloriously complete true love could
be, he would have given Sean the talent of flying without
wings in Xanth, so he could share Willow's life com-
pletely. No one else could do such a thing, but the Demon
X(A/N)'1' had all magic power in his own land, and he
knew now that a favor done required a favor returned.

Everything, everything, could have been Chlorine's, for
herself and her friends who had helped her battle the 111
Wind. Even those who had come in late, like Adam and
Keaira, who were now discovering a romance of their own.
He knew the parts all of them had played, and could re-
ward them all.

All lost, for want of a tear.

YON ILL WIND   331

He spread his awareness. Chlorine had arrived home, in
her homely bad-natured form. She tried to tell her mother
about her adventure.

"Where's that sprig of thyme you were supposed to
fetch, you disreputable wench?" her shrewish mother de-
manded, slapping her. She did that often, because she
knew the girl didn't dare hit back.

Chlorine had completely forgotten about that. In fact,
she didn't even remember that she hadn't been the one
sent for a sprig of thyme; that was Miss Fortune. Chlorine
had gone for a bow from a bow-vine. But the two had
collided, and gotten confused, and proceeded on each
other's missions. "I—I got distracted," she said, realizing
just how awful her family life had been. Why had she ever
bothered to return to this?

"Distracted?" her brutish father asked. "Did you sneak
out to see a stupid boy?''

A stupid boy. That was about as far from the truth as it
was possible to get.

"Not exactly. You see I encountered a funny-looking
dragon who changed into a handsome man, and made me
beautiful, and we had the most wonderful adventure and
helped save Xanth from the 111 Wind, and—"

"Shut up!" he shouted, lifting his hand to knock some
respect into her. "Don't try to tell me any crazy fantastic
story! Where's this oaf?"

Chlorine realized that they were not about to listen, so
she tried another tack. "Out near the thyme plant. Do you
want to meet him?"

"Sure I do," her father said, fetching his club from the
wall. "I'll bash his head into pulp! You don't deserve any
man."

Bash Nimby? Gross chance! She did not realize that
Nimby was now immobile. So she led them back to where
Nimby lay. "There he is," she said. "The dragon who
made me beautiful and gave me the best adventure of my
life. Now do you believe me?"

"A dragon ass!" the man exclaimed, recognizing the

332   PIERS ANTHONY

species immediately, because it was so close to his own
type. "We don't want that kind here. Not in my back yard.
We'll destroy it." He bashed Nimby on the head with his
club, but it made no difference. Nimby could not move,
but neither was he vulnerable to the weak strength of a
dissipated mortal man. Only time would wipe him out, or
a hot fire.

"It's already dead, you fool," Chlorine's mother said.
"Soon it'll begin to stink."

"Then we'll bum it," the man decided. "Come on, pile
up some brush round it." He and his wife got to work
gathering dry brush.

Chlorine was stunned. "Nimby—what's the matter with
you?" she cried. "Get up, get away from here! I'll go
with you. Maybe we can have another adventure some-
where else."

But Nimby didn't move. He had lost that power.

"So you're slacking off, as usual, you slut," Chlorine's
father said. "Just for that, you will have the privilege of
doing the final honor." He brought out a torch, and lit it.
"You will set fire to the pyre. Let that be a lesson to you."
He shoved the blazing torch into Chlorine's somewhat
flaccid hand.

"Nimby!" she cried, a strange emotion rising in her.
"Get up! Get away! Don't let them kill you!"

But Nimby just lay there, unable to respond. If only she
had been able to fathom the one thing she needed to!

"Do it, girl, or you'll get a beating the like of Which
you won't forget!" her father said grimly.

Chlorine realized that she had no choice. She was back
in the real world of Xanth, no longer in the dreamworld
of beauty and Princesses and great adventures. She was
subject to the brutish whims of her family, and she herself
was rather more like them than she liked. For a while she
had been nice as well as beautiful, but now she was nei-
ther. She wished she could have loved and been loved
while she was worthy of it, yet somehow she hadn't known
how to make it happen. Why hadn't she thought to ask

YON ILL WIND   333

Nimby? So she had squandered her chance even for that.
She was a loser. Her best bet was to bum up the dragon
and be done with illusions of grandeur.

She lowered the torch. But as she gazed directly upon
Nimby's ugly donkey head, a despairing realization came.
""I'm not beautiful, I'm not nice, I'm no good, I'm poison,
like my talent—but for a while you made me seem oth-
erwise. I owe you that wonderful dream that never could
be. I owe the Mundane family too, because they showed
me how good a family could be. I think maybe I could
learn to love like that, given half a chance. Oh, Nimby, I
don't know what happened to you, but I fear it's my fault.
Maybe I poisoned your water by accident when I reverted
to my normal nature. It's too late now to make amends,
and I'd mess it up if I tried. But now I know I love you
in my worthless way, and if I can't gaze on you, I don't
care if I never see anything again! In fact, I'll join you in
this pyre, so maybe my third-rate spirit can be near yours.
Nimby, I beg you, forgive me for messing you up." She
touched the torch to the brush, and the pyre flamed high,
heating her face, singeing her hair.

And the two halves of her only remaining tear flowed
from her eyes, blinding them, and merged on her nose, and
that tear fell.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I do a lot of writing—far more than ever sees print—
because I'm a writaholic; I love writing. But my work-
ing schedule suffered a significant disruption. I was
writing Hope of Earth, which is my third GEODYSSEY
historical novel, and hoped to complete it in 1994. But I
had a number of collaborations to do—no, don't all you
readers write in asking to collaborate, because I hope to
do no more of those—and those delayed Hope. Then I got
to work on it, and was about 50,000 words along, when
the last collaborative manuscript arrived. Quest for the
Fallen Star. I read it, and had mixed emotions: it was a
major fantasy that would surely put my collaborator on the
map when published, but it needed the kind of editing and
revamping I could do to give it full effect—and it was
240,000 words long. On each of the more recent collabo-
rations my collaborator has written the novel, then I have
gone over it to fix any problems that might make it un-
publishable. So my part is fairly fast. But this one would
take me two and a half months to revamp—as long as it
takes me to write a typical Xanth novel. If I took that much
time off, how could I finish Hope on schedule? So I dis-
cussed it with my researcher, Alan Riggs, and he suggested
that he try going over it first. He could take care of the
routine adjustments—the kind that can take a lot of time—
and then I could go over it and polish it to my standard.
That would reduce my time to about a month, with as good
a result. I liken novel writing to building a highway: first
you scout the territory, plot the route on the map, obtain
the right to use the land, clear the site, bulldoze out hills,
fill in ravines, bridge over bogs and rivers, level it—and
then you are ready to start hauling in your supplies and

336   PIERS ANTHONY

actually constructing the road surface. My collaborator had
done all that, but his surface was not quite of drivable
level, so needed to be regraded and finished. Alan could
do the regrading, and then I could come with my finishing
tools and complete the job. So we consulted with the au-
thor, and he agreed, and Alan got to work on it. But that
meant I had lost my researcher, and because Alan has not
had my quarter century experience revising novels, it was
much slower for him. So he was out for most of the rest
of the year, and Hope ground to a halt anyway without

him.

What to do? A dim bulb flashed: do the next Xanth
novel. I had scheduled it for 1995, but my fan suggestion
list was already overflowing despite using up about 150
on Roc and a Hard Place. Some were pretty substantial
notions, too, such as having the Demon X(AN)"' assume
mortal form and have an adventure in Xanth, or having a
Mundane family named Baldwin get blown in with a
storm. Ah, I see you recognize those notions. So I filled
in by writing this novel.

Then my father, eighty-five, fell and fractured his hip.
There were endless complications as he wended his way
through surgery and recovery, culminating in a trip to
Pennsylvania my daughter Penny and I made, to make sure
all was in order with him. I believe we did succeed in
enhancing his lifestyle in a number of ways, as well as
renewing family ties. So that was time off from this novel.

But not the main time off. That was the process of learn-
ing a new word processor. I had used Borland's Sprint for
six years, and liked it well enough. But it never had an
update, and the news was that the company was going to
let it fade away. It required a special patch to run on a 486
system; what about the 586? So it seemed to be time to
get with a word processor that would stay with the times.
The winnowing out has occurred, and for my IBM clone
system there were now two main choices: Word Perfect or
Microsoft Word. Of those, only the latter would call up
multiple files. Since I normally call up nine working files,

YON ILL WIND   337

for text, contents, characters, notes, and so on, that clarified
my decision. (Later I learned that Word Perfect for Win-
dows now calls up nine files—but MS Word for Windows
seems to have no limit.) So I tried Word for DOS, but
after a week moved to Word for Windows, because that
was about two upgrades more advanced, and had a number
of features I wanted. I am one of those who don't much
like Windows or the Mouse, but got around that by getting
a trackball and then finding ways to avoid using it. Win-
dows and Word arid associated programs turned put to be
monsters to leam, evidently crafted by programmers who
had been too long away from the real world. I don't just
accept the defaults offered, I want to make the machine
serve me, rather than vice versa. Word did not want to
yield mastery, but eventually I did get things mostly my
way, and it is a powerful program, even if it hasn't yet
caught up to Sprint in a number of features. So I started
this novel on Sprint, and changed to Word for DOS early
in Chapter Three, and to Word for Windows by the end
of that chapter. So if you notice a change in the novel at
that point, you know whom to blame: Microsoft. And yes,
of course I wrote Microsoft a long letter detailing the ways
Word was pointlessly User-Unfriendly, such as having an
almost invisible vertical line in lieu of a cursor so you have
to operate almost blind. Oh, what fun, deleting the wrong
file because you thought you were here instead of there!
The company could at one stroke greatly improve its prod-
uct. But I received no response. Par for the course. After
all, if they wanted it to be User-Friendly, they would have
listened to users long ago. But I must say that once that
pit bull is muzzled and trained, it does have a lot of au-
thority.

Then Microsoft marketed a new "ergonomic" key-
board, which looks as if it was designed by Salvador Dali,
he of the melted watches: take a regular keyboard, melt it
halfway over a flame, stretch it so the keyboard separates
in the center, push it together again so that the center
humps without rejoining, and put a bar under it that lifts

338   PIERS ANTHONY

it in the front, rather than the back, so that the keys tilt
slightly away from you, and you have it. The Microsoft
Natural Keyboard. Only a crazy person would try to use
that. Right: I bought it, and I love it. Because now my
hands can address it halfway naturally, easing the pressure
on my wrists, so that maybe my carpal tunnel syndrome
will alleviate. I tried it for ten days, getting used to it, then
-tried my old keyboard again—and in one minute gave up;

I can no longer stand the type of keyboard I used for ten
years. I fancy myself as an ornery independent cuss, and
I dislike Big Business on principle, but Microsoft got my
number on this one. I changed to the new keyboard, with
my Dvorak layout pasted on, in Chapter Nine, during
Chlorine's seduction scene, right after the window fan and
before the ogre eater. So, again, if you notice a change ...

So my life shifted in the course of this novel, and not
just because I turned (ugh!) sixty. Thanks so much to all
of you readers who wrote to remind me of that milestone,
in case I should overlook it.

Long-term readers will remember that Jenny Elf is based
on a real girl, who got struck at age twelve by a drunk
driver and was in a coma for almost three months before
my first letter woke her. Then it turned out that she was
almost completely paralyzed. That was several years ago,
and as I write this she is eighteen, still mostly paralyzed,
but doing better. She can use a powered wheelchair, and
can walk a few steps using a walker, and can speak some
words. Her computer helps a lot. She hopes to take college
courses. At this time the collection of my first year's letters
to her, titled. Letters to Jenny, is being published in paper-
back. Jenny Elf was a major character in Isle of View, and
has been around as an incidental Xanth character since, as
in this novel.

Readers keep sending me puns, characters, and sugges-
tions. This year I have written two Xanth novels, and used
about 150 reader notions in the last, and close to 100 in
this one, and there are still half a slew waiting in line, with
more crowding in. The wait for admission to a Xanth novel

YON ILL WIND   339

is getting long. Apart from a number earmarked for the
next novel, Faun & Games, I'm caught up through roughly
JeJune 1994. There will be another year's worth by the
time I write F&G, which will take place mostly in an un-
usual setting, even for Xanth: Ptero Moon. This is no or-
dinary site.

Here are the credits for reader contributions to this
novel: Mundane hurricane and Baldwin family into Xanth,
Willow Elf—Michael Weatherford. Hurricane Fracto—
Tim Cumming. Demon X(A/N)"' assumes mortal form for
quest—Brian Laughman. Aqua duck, ant-acid—J. W. Ma-
nuel. Miss Fortune, "No thyme like the present," block
parents, scents of humor flowers, ogre eater, junk male,
spoils of war—Princess Mandy Owston. Bow-vine, pun-
ish-mint—Gershon Allweiss. Toad stools—Isaac Hansen-
Joseph. Wrist watch, ear drum, cow bell, ring finger—
Daniel McBride. Speed demon, kinder/meaner garden—
Aimee Caldwell. Fly-by-night, fly-fishing frogs—Brian
Visel. Magic marker—Joel Hayhurst. Com-bat, re-in-
carnations—Matt "Powerman" Powers. Dock spider, cen-
taur/mermaid, naga/harpy crossbreeds—Kevan Gentle.
Poul-tree—Nick Kiefel. Mean well—Stephanie Erb. Mean
time—Bill Fields. Blobstacle course—Garrett Elliott.
Meatier shower—Eric Sanford. Imp names—Leighton Pa-
quette. Gem puns—Jew Leer. Car pool puns—John R.
Short. B-puns—R. J. Frey. Fire ants, pain cone—Jake
Walters, Chris Warren. Thim bull—Brock Moore. New,
clear cherry bombs; thyme bomb—Daniel Serrano. Crimea
River, whinery—Brandy Straus. Cat-ion—Damion D.
Belts. Art-illery—Adam Ross. Glass jaw—Paul-Gabriel
Wiener.

Centaur/night mare crossbreed—Emily Waddy. Tree-
men-dous—Melanie Wahl. Snarl—Louis Kammerer.
Upsy-daisy, talent of making pictures—Ray Koenig. Ursa
(Snarl's girl)—Ursa Davis. Junk shun, Deja and Vu, Law
of Averages overturned on appeal—Richard Vallance.
Trenita—Trenita Taylor. Window fan—Thomas-Dwight,
Sawyer, Dorr. Twenty questions (and more) answered—

340   PIERS ANTHONY

David H Zaback. Melody, Rhythm, Harmony—Eric and
Melody Moyer. Poison Ivy; Sherry, Terry, and Merry—
Rachel Gutin. Demon Ted—Michelle Aakhus. Fracto's
side—Sarah Gordon. Che's release from Companionship—
Erin Kay Sharp. Napsack—Sara Rosehill. Modem—James
Morrow. Keaira the weather girl—Eden Miller. Lips tic—
Drew Beauler. Crystal Centaur—Crystal Centaur. Centaur
magic conjecture—Brandee Irwin. Adam—Adam Mc-
Daniel. Fat character in Xanth—Jenna Grambort. Mari-
ana—Bryan J. Moll. Twin girls who shape and animate
rocks—Jenifer Trapp. Twins who change color of hair—
Amanda Galli. Leai and Adiana—Michelle J. Siedlecki.
Timber wolf—Brent Rowe. Gourdless phone, crossbow,
money tree—Scott Thompson. The Pawpaw Wizard—
Suzanne T. Persampieri. The origin of reverse wood—
Joshua Breitzer. Talent of sticking to walls—Kevin Cris-
alli. The right spot—W. D. Bliss. The origin of mosqui-
toes—Jessica Grider. Snowshoes—Murray Sampson. Ash
hole—Brian Bouchard. The four fan: forces of nature—
Amanda Dickason. Table salt—Andy Hartwell.

And one additional credit, of a different nature: as I
edited this novel, I tired of the regular background radio
music, so listened to an audiocassette tape sent to me by
reader Judy Purgal: Loreena McKennitt's Elemental. I do
like folk songs, and Irish music, and there are a number
of such singers I can enjoy. But the one that caught my
fancy this time, Loreena arranged but did not sing; it was
sung by Cedric Smith: "Carrighfergus." It's the story of
an alcoholic who longs to return there and die. I'm not
alcoholic, but I do at times long for the old isles.

And so farewell, for another fantastic year. Dismem-
ber 3, 1994.